


For Those Below

by NattieFOURLarry



Series: Hopeless Wanderer [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Bribery, Declarations Of Love, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Please Don't Hate Me, True Love, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NattieFOURLarry/pseuds/NattieFOURLarry
Summary: I cannot imagine spending my days with anyone else...To face life's challenges with, to depend on.I knew the moment I looked into your eyesThe second I touched your hand,Grazed your lips,Felt that immediate connection.It was a welcoming sensation, a feeling I thought I would fear. But-...with you, there's nothing to be afraid of.It's all right here...and that's you.





	1. Someone Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Welcome to part two of Hopeless Wanderer.  
> Please review the tags and archive warnings prior to reading.  
> Also, I am still working on this so just look for my "OK to read" blurbs in the notes.
> 
> Thanks!

**Scene One: Manhattan Beach, 22:30**

It's nearly complete.

The song he wrote, it's in front him, the words, the melodies, all of it. It's a heartfelt tune, quite possibly a ballad, quite possibly a confession, quite possibly the biggest mistake he's ever put onto paper and into words. But it's there and it clarified everything... brought every emotion he felt to life and it's suffocating him.

Each word came from the heart and expresses exactly how he feels, made him realize just how effected he is by this man, how much he will miss them. And he's afraid because there is no denying how deep and _how hard_ he's fallen.

He knew from the second he saw Louis, had every idea just how bad it was going to be for him and he insisted. He insisted and now that he got a taste of that man's sweetness, he'll never be able to find another like him.  _How do I move on now?_

He places a hand on his chest and takes a deep breath at that thought.

Nothing will compare.

He feels the tear in his heart, the constant ache, the unfortunate reminder that soon Louis will be a memory, a flicker in his head, a moment in time that will fade over the course of his life. He'll be forced to forget, compelled into a relationship he has no desire to be in, paired with another who is  _not Lou_...and he cannot handle that fact. It's a crazy whirlwind of emotions and it shouldn't be this difficult! He should have a choice.

He places his head in his hands and tugs at the curls.  _Why did I agree to this? Why didn't I walk away? Why did I think helping my dying father whom never cared about my existence would make me feel better? Make the situation manageable? I was stupid...and young and now I regret it all._ He is stuck, destined, obligated...and it all makes him sick.

His phone starts to buzz stirring him from his thoughts.

He cannot look...cannot see that name across the screen or he'll cave and go to Louis and hold him...wrap him up and kiss the tears away, lift his spirits, remind him everything will be okay...protect him, convey any positivity to the man when inside he is in utter chaos.  _I want him happy. Forget me._

It's all so easy. He can simply go to him, kiss him until his lips become chapped, run his hands over that smooth skin until the pads of his fingers are raw, move against that slim body and feel every curve, become one again…

He closes his eyes at the sensation, pretends they're together, holding one another, imagining Louis is in his lap, squeezing his hips, riding him... giving him pleasure...

He pinches the inside of his thigh.

Harry must never see Louis again. It's as simple as that.

**Scene Two: Hollywood Community Precinct, 02:45AM**

“You haven't put your phone down all night.”

Louis looks to his left and finds Niall staring at him. It's been an interesting week...he's been a hot mess, Harry is ignoring him and hasn't been at work and no one knows why, his emotions are getting the best of him.  _I may be slowly dying on the inside._ He’s lost his touch…he is a textbook. Where did that well placed barrier disappear to?

“How were you with Sandy?” He asks changing the subject. He puts the phone down needing a distraction. They never actually discussed it so he figured now is the best time.

“I  _don't_  want to talk about it! The guy was a douche end of story.” He secretly thinks the blonde is still angry with him but the decision was out of his hands so the anger really isn't warranted. “When I would ask a question he'd give me a damn attitude! So I had to write them down and ask Liam or Zayn when we were leaving.”

“You could have asked me you know.” He looks at the kid.

“You were too busy with HaaaRRrrYyY.” Niall mocks. “Didn't want to interrupt your time.” He looks away immediately.  _Not anymore. He hates me for being so needy and annoying._  “Is he coming back?”

“Don't know.” He shrugs. No one has questioned him and he's fine with that.  _Hurts less I suppose._

“I thought you'd be the first to know?”

“He isn't speaking to me.” He confesses. “I have no idea what he is doing.”  _And yup, I am dying._

“Really? That's strange. He's-”

“ _No_ . It wasn’t what I thought! I was wrong…completely wrong!” He wrings his hands. “I was  _stupid_  to think otherwise.”

“Are you  _serious?_  That’s how you feel?!” The control he once held is slipping through his fingers. “You think the relationship you guys had-”

“You have  _no idea_  what kind of relationship we had!” He snaps. “It was clearly something temporary, a  _good time_ . It was never meant to be more. So please!  _Drop it_.” He looks away, stares out the window into the night, hates himself for being curt towards the blonde.

“Ah...alright.” The kid sounds deflated.

“Niall, I'm sorry.” He apologizes immediately. “I'm not in a good place right now.”

“What's wrong?”  _Do I tell him?_

“I have to move.”  _Harry hates me._

“Move!? Why?”

“I can't afford my house any longer.”  _My ex wants to torture me…no big deal._

“That's awful. I'm sorry to hear. You'll find something right?”  _And Harry hates me._

“Yeah just a little further away. It has to allow cats though. I have two.”

“I see...well I'll help you!”

“You will?”

“Of course. You're my friend! Have to help a friend when I can.”

“That’s...yeah I'd like that.”  _Okay...that's a first._

“Cool! After work let's get looking!!”

“Sure.” He squeezes his knees together. “Thank you Niall. Really.”

He sighs in his seat and stares blankly ahead.

**Scene Three: Harry’s Condo, 10:45**

Purchased.

He purchased the house in full.  _No mortgage, nothing. It's yours, Lou._  He spent an extra fifty thousand to outbid the other potential buyers but fuck that. He has to leave the  _one person_  he...he cannot even think of the word love because that would just crush him...but he cannot deny it. He wanted to leave Louis something, make it easier on him to live knowing what he did was wrong, make it up somehow, gift him with a goddamn house.

Will this gesture give the wrong impression? Will Louis fall even harder?  _Did I make the wrong decision?_ Was buying the house too forward?

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket.

It’s probably his father, his irritating, meddlesome father, who cannot seem to  _leave him alone_  for more than five seconds. The man is on top of him like white on rice, persistently checking up, ensuring he's coming, asking him for a  _date_. But he just doesn’t have an exact time yet.  _I have to wait for the closing now…so who knows?_

“Hi, Dad.” He answers in a flat tone.  

“Son, wonderful to hear your voice.”

“You've called me every day for the past month. What do you want?”

“Yes, well I have to make sure my favorite son is on his way home.”  _I_ _am your only son...good try._  “I do not-” The man begins coughing…uncontrollably. It’s sickening, wet sounding, and he wants to gag. The man is  _suffering_ …and Harry couldn’t care less…

“A-alright, can we speak later?” He puts his head in his hands.

“No!” His father chokes out. “I…” He quickly recovers. “I have a meeting...I will not have time. Son, now listen, the wedding-”

“It's in my calendar.”  _Actually no I don't even know the date._  “I have some loose ends to tie up here first.”  _You know give Louis my condo...buy his house for him._  “I have to sell the condo.”

“I can request that lovely real estate agent I hired to purchase the Villa for me. What was his name...he was very professional. He is more than capable.”

“ _Stan_? That man is a waste.” He spits. “No way.”

“He was attentive, knowledgeable, quite helpful if you ask me.” His father is wheezing into the phone struggling to even speak.

“Possibly. But he…”  _Abused the love of my life._  He pinches his cheek. “Whatever,  _dad,_  I'll be home soon.”

“You continue saying  _soon._ I need clarification..what exactly is  _soon_?” He sighs into the phone.

“Give me three weeks.” He confirms.

“Three! Now...that is-”

“You have the rest of my life to order me around, give me a few more weeks. I can't just pack up and leave.”

“As a matter of fact...you can.” More wheezing...accompanied by a cough or two.

“But I won't. I'll see you in  _three weeks._ ” He abruptly hangs up and has this need to call Louis. He wants to spill his heart, tell him everything, explain  _why_ they cannot be together, wish he could lie next to him for the rest of their days.  

He doesn’t know what the better choice is…to be with the man for every waking second until he leaves? Or end it immediately.  _How can I choose when all I want is to simply touch his hand?_

He drops a quick text to Sandy about Saturday to deter his thoughts.

[S]: Last gig? What's going on?

[H]: I'm going back home for good.

[S]: ...call me.

[H]: We can speak Saturday.

[S]: Why are you not at work?

[H]: I said-

His phone starts to ring.  _FUCK_. He unwillingly answers.

“I said we can speak-”

“You're leaving?” Sandy asks.

“I…am.” He sighs.

“When did you decide that, huh? When were you going to tell me? You’re going to leave me with that Sergeant? He's such a fuck!” He wants to jump through the phone and strangle the man.

“No, Sandy. He isn't...you're just too impatient to get to know him. He's a-”

“You just want in his pants.”

“Huh?"  _How did he know?_ He kept his feelings concealed…and away from prying eyes.

“Yeah see? Your opinion of him is already skewed.”

“Don’t give him trouble, alright?”

“I can’t promise anything, he enjoys making my life miserable. But you’re really leaving?”

“I am...I have to head on home now.”

“What was the point of coming here in the first place if your intention was to return?”

“I don't know...live a different life for a while.”  _And escape for as long as I can._

“Didn't think life in the UK was that different.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I guess.” Silence.  _I don’t know what to say?_  “Who is coming Saturday?”

“Well I was leaving that up to you to invite everyone at work.”

“How about boss man? Do you want  _him_  there?” He ponders for a moment.  _Yes…it’ll always be a yes._

“N-no.” The word slips from his mouth. “Actually don't ask him.” He bites his tongue.

“Is that so? Alright I'll keep it quiet. That blonde kid will probably say something though.”

“So tell him last minute or when you're heading home.” The sadness consumes him, nearly makes him choke. “They...uh won't have t-time to speak.” He clears his throat.

“But I thought you liked him? Isn’t that why you invited him out? He was standing  _really_  close to you at the bar and staring at you like you were a piece of meat.”

“ _Anyway_  I have to call Campbell.”

“Just admit you like the guy.”

“It _doesn't_ matter anymore.” He grips his curls in an iron like fist.

“It's okay you know.” Sandy practically whispers into the phone. “I saw how you looked at him.”

“ _Sandy_  stop! How I feel about him isn't going to change anything. Don't you see? So can we not discuss it further?”

“Fine. I'll see you Saturday.” The line goes dead.

“Ugh!!” He practically throws the phone down in anger.

**Scene Four: Sotheby's, Beverly Hills, CA, 13:15**

“Congratulations.”

Harry reluctantly shakes Stan's outstretched hand.  _You hurt Lou with those hands_.

“Thanks.” He let's go. “We should be set then.”

“I'll let Louis know to move as soon as possible…” The man looks lost in thought.

“That won't be necessary.” He clarifies.

“Why?” Stan begins stacking the paperwork. “I have no idea if he found-”

“It's his, meaning Louis’. I bought it for him.”

“You paid for the house in full.” Stan's face goes pale. “How-”

“He's worth it if you haven't noticed.” He snaps. “How could you do that to him? Threaten him with his home!?” His blood is running cold through his veins. “What kind of shithead move is that?”

“That's between us! Keep your nose out of our business!”

“Well, it became my business when I had to spend five hundred thousand dollars on a house. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“We are  _no longer together._ I am not responsible for the mortgage any more. That was up to him!”

“So you put the house up for sale without telling him!? Or give him ample notice?!”

“He couldn't _afford_  it!! Why the fuck am I telling you this!? You have no idea what we went through!”

“I know plenty.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

 _“_ Right, You just know everything. Isn't that correct _Prince_ Harry?" He recoils, practically lashes out at the man for uttering those words. He can't respond, he's frozen. “That's right. I  _know_. I figured it out when I purchased the Villa for your father.”

“Well good for you. I guess you do have a brain underneath all that hair gel.” He turns away.

“Does Lewis know?”

“I…I wasn’t planning on telling him.” He confirms.

“Why? Don't you think that's it's _fair_  he know?”

“Can you say it was you?” He stares into the man's eyes. “Please?”

“Me?!” The man taps his fingers on the desk. “ME?! I can’t!”

“Why not? It’ll be easier. He has to…Louis has to…uh…how do I put this…”

“I love him.” Stan confesses out of the blue. Harry nearly falls over. “If I say it was me…he’ll believe I am trying to win him back.”

“Then make him believe it! Please! He has to-…he has to forget me.”

“Why?”

“I cannot be with him.”

“Any particular reason?” The man stares him square in the face. “Is he not what your old man had in mind?”

“A man? Precisely. I am having an arranged marriage, Stan. I cannot take him with me…although what I’d give…Look you have to keep this a secret. Tell him in time, but just…not now. I’m also giving him my condo. I put that in my proposal as well. I’ll pay whatever it costs to prepare the paperwork.”

“…How…I guess? I don’t know…”

“For now! You can blame me. Just  _not yet_. I cannot face him…I cannot HURT him! Don’t you understand? I was wrong. I was so fucking selfish.”

“I was worse. I made him suffer…it was a mistake. I thought he wouldn’t leave me. I thought I held that much power over him…but I turned into my father. I hurt him. I pushed him away and he found comfort in you…he was right to leave me. It’s better for him.” The man shrugs. “He’s attached to you, Harry. He likes you. So-”

“He  _can’t_ .” He wrings his fingers. “Tell him you bought the house. I’ll explain everything in the future when he’s moved on, get you off the hook. He can hate me, cuss me out, belittle me. I DON’T CARE! I deserve it all. Just  _promise me_!”

“I promise. My lips are sealed.” Stan looks lost in thought. “Do you…do you love him?”

“I…I can’t answer that.”

“I see…alright well. I’ll um…start your paperwork.”

“Thank you.”

**Scene Five: Louis’ House, 09:30AM**

He arrives back at the house and takes in the mail.

He and Niall have an apartment showing in an hour but he had to stop home to take care of the cats.

“Sorry. I have to feed them. If I don't…”

“Nah I get it. Oh hey this place is nice!!” The kid looks around the living room.

“Yeah. It is.” He sniffles.  _It was_. “Hi boys!!” George and Luke come out from behind the cabinet greeting him with droopy eyes and sleep laden mews.

“Look at that! They're practically twins!!” Niall approaches them unaware of their quirky tendencies.

“Ah wait!” George lashes out and scratches the blonde on the arm in defense and hastily darts away. “I'm sorry!” Louis quickly approaches him to inspect the damage. “Are you okay? He can be a little mean. He only liked Harr-” He stops. George only liked Harry.  _Who didn't?_

“I’m good. Don’t worry.” The blonde reassures.

“Alright…let me feed them and we can go.” He drops the mail on the counter.

“What's this?” Niall asks as Louis fills the food bowls.

“What’s what?”

“It's a letter from the real estate company. Look.” Louis takes the envelope from him and tears it open. He begins reading…processes the words…nearly falls over.

“It was sold?! The house was sold already?!” He begins to mentally freak, physically breakdown.  _Change of ownership._  “I...I didn't have enough time!” He swipes fervently at his eyes. “What am I going to do?!” He sobs out.

“Hey well...uh what else does it say?” Niall takes the notice and reads it. Louis is trying his best to keep the tears at bay but his strength and composure are dwindling.  _I am falling apart and there is nothing I can do to stop it._  “Uh...I think you should read this. Look at the last part.” He skims the paragraphs, takes in the words…

“Owner...why is my name listed as owner!?” He runs a hand through his hair. “Is this a joke!?” He looks at Niall. “What's going on!!” His phone begins to ring.  _Stanley_. He answers immediately. “Who bought the house? Why am I listed as owner!?” He practically screams. He's frantic, so beyond he cannot think clearly.

“Calm down there Lewis. Yes your house was sold.”

“But why is my-”

“I…bought it. It's yours.”

“You…what?” His heart is hammering in his chest.

“After our last meeting I had to do something, had to prove myself. You deserve it…I’m making up for all the years I hurt you.”

“I…I…what?” He feels a little uneasy. “Stan-”

“No, it’s fine. You’re mortgage free. I hope you enjoy it.” His ex hangs up.

“What happened?” Niall asks.

“Stanley…purchased the house for me.” He repeats.  _I cannot believe it_.

“What?! He did!!”

“Yes. I know I cannot believe it either…he said it was…to make up for all the years he…hurt me.

"Wow this is heavy…so I guess no apartment hunting?”

“Y-yeah…no apartment hunting.”

He turns away and stares down at the paper.  _There’s no way…_

**Scene Six: Louis’ House, 08:15 PM**

He’s lying in bed.

The letter is in his hand, the words have since been memorized, the reality still surreal. He doesn’t have to move. He can live mortgage free in his home with his cats, his garden, kitchen…and no one to live with.

What is Stanley’s intention though? Why did he do this? He was never one to apologize or even think of his needs. So what gives now? Is his ex jealous of Harry

_Harry._

He looks at the analog clock on his nightstand. The Rogue is playing soon.

He remembers when Harry told him those few weeks ago…and he wants to go. He has to try one last time, make amends before they part ways for good, apologize. Harry is ignoring him but he will try his best. _I can do this._

**Scene Seven: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 21:15**

They're behind schedule.

Josh was a few minutes late and Dan insisted he eat before the show and here they are, scrambling to get everything set. This wasn't how he wanted to depart but they will put on a great show nonetheless.  _I just wish it was smoother…_

“It's packed!” Josh is nearly finished setting his drum kit up. “I guess they know it's your last night.” He adds solemnly. “We’re going to lose half of our fan base!”

“I don't think-” He tries to deny it.

“At least the female half.” Dan adds.

“We'll have to disband.” Josh concludes.

“Never. I have someone in mind.” He states matter of fact. “Niall.” He looks into the crowd and spots the kid and points. “Him. He can sing and play. The kid has got talent.”

“You sure? He looks a little young.” Dan cranes his neck over the crowd. “I don't know if he'll be a good fit.”

“You haven't even heard him.”

“And you have?” Josh asks.

“As a matter of fact, yes. He played a new tune he wrote recently. Give him a chance.”

“I trust your judgement.”

“You ready?”  Dan questions. Harry nods.

“Yeah now or never I suppose.” He peers out into the crowd, feels a hole in his chest, feels the loss and ache running its course through his body, the pressure. He wanted Louis here...wanted the man to watch him perform the songs he wrote for him, see his handsome face and beautiful blue eyes. He takes a deep breath.

“Wait are we going to play this?” Dan holds up the  _new_  tune.

“Uh...I don't know…” Why did he write that? “That was a...mistake I think.”

“Not even for your last night?!” Josh insists.

“I guess.” He shrugs.

“What's it called?”

“If I could fly.”

“Nice.” Josh takes the music. “I'll follow your cue.”

“ _Great_.”

**Scene Eight: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 10:00PM**

He's in the back hiding.

He purposely kept to a large group of people to remain hidden, evade prying eyes, be one of the patrons,  _fit in_ . He even wore a hat to be extra cautious.  _I need to remain inconspicuous._ So he's tucked away in a corner admiring, allowing himself to gawk. For some reason, he doesn’t want to be noticed just yet, he wants his presence to be a surprise.  _Yeah I could never surprise Harry._

He is intently watching Harry as his brain continues to process the talent that radiates off of him. His voice is so soothing, deep, sexy, yet angelic. But it's only the start. Louis is transfixed on the man's hands that are working the guitar, the way his lips move, the way his veins protrude from his neck when he hits a high note. It's too much to take in all at once. He needs to touch, feel, be fucking manhandled, pushed against a wall...groped, sucked off, fucked...he can't take it. The images swirling around in his head are arousing him.

He touches his lips in anticipation, knows exactly how he'll approach Harry at the end of the show, how he'll jump the man's bones and ravish the shit out of him with his tongue and teeth, quench his thirst, give in…easily melt into that sun kissed skin. He closes his eyes.  _Soon…_

“Be back in fifteen!” Harry announces.  _Wait what?!_  He looks up and finds the man standing up but a band mate stops him. “ _Now?_ ” He says into the microphone with this ridiculous smile. Louis is simply staring. _Yeah why now? I have this killer boner that needs those hands._  The crowd cheers. “Oh, Jesus. Alright.” The man sits back down and takes hold of the guitar. He runs a hand through his hair. “I am being forced to sing this. It’s new actually...and uh...this one is quite personal and...yeah please don't poke fun.” Harry smirks. The patrons applaud and begin to quiet down as he starts to play.

The song starts off simple; an easy guitar riff, no drums, just the soft acoustic filling the space.  _Probably would sound better with a piano...not that I know anything about music or anything._  But he listens with everyone else, watches the way Harry's emotion change, how he becomes engulfed in the tune, transitions his soul into the music...and it's beautiful.

_If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you_

_I think I might give you everything just ask me to_

He continues singing and gently strumming the guitar, keeps his eyes closed as he hits every pitch, puts forth all of his will into the lyrics.

_I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen_

_And pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel a thing_

Louis is lost...the lyrics hit home, strike a familiar chord, make his knees weak. Who is this about?

_I can feel your heart inside of mine_

_I've been going out of my mind_

_Know that I'm just wasting time_

_And I_

_Hope you don't run from me_

His feet are moving towards the stage unbeknownst to him. He didn’t even realize…he just continues forward, closer to the man who stole his heart, took his life and made it meaningful.  _You're not going anywhere without me. I will forever be yours._

Louis needs to feel those green irises on him, feel their penetrating gaze on his skin.  _Please, look at me_. He internally begs, conveys through his eyes. But Harry is focused.

_For your eyes only_

_I show you my heart_

_For when you're lonely and forget who you are_

_I'm missing half of me_

_When we're apart_

_Now you know me_

_For your eyes only_

The song ends.

Harry finally looks up and acknowledges the crowd, smiles, swipes at his glassy eyes and stands.  _Wait!!_ The entire room erupts with cheers, whistles, claps. It was a beautiful song...it definitely was personal...it definitely was about  _someone_  important…special, someone who affected him emotionally. He cannot help but think it may be about him.  _Who am I kidding?_

Louis starts to weave in and out of the hordes of people while keeping his eyes trained on Harry. He has to get to him, has to speak to him, thank him, hold him close.

“Okay! Now we’ll be back in fifteen!” The man props his guitar up on a stand and turns away.

“Harry!!!” He yells. He hopes his voice carries, prays the man will look up.

“Gramps?” He hears the familiar voice and turns towards-

“Niall?” He looks behind the blonde and finds the rest of his team there gawking at him, their mouths wide open, eyes in shock. “What the fuck?”  _Did Harry not want me here?_  His heart is sinking quickly, his stomach churning.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” The blonde approaches him but he eyes him wearily and takes a step back. “Where are you going?”

“I uh…” He looks towards the stage and his eyes meet Harry’s.  _What do I do?_  There’s just something not right here. He’s hurting, embarrassed, beyond confused, and all he needs are answers.  _I have to speak to him._

Those green irises remain on him for a second longer before the man breaks contact, turns back around and abruptly jumps off the stage disappearing down a corridor.

He trudges on, feels his skin tingling as he heads towards the back of the bar. He can see Harry running his hands through his sweated hair, can feel the heat radiating, can sense the anger? He wants to cry because… _What did I do?_

He’s there, the man’s back is to him, but he’s here. He reaches out, takes hold of Harry’s shoulder, turns him around, and lunges forward.  _I can’t wait…I can’t wait any longer. I need you. My being needs you. Angry be damned._

Louis crashes their lips together, begins to feel the flood of emotions surge in his veins, a sense of calm wash over him. He’s in heaven, he’s at peace, he’s home. Maybe this was all he needed? Maybe the reminder of what they shared will be enough to salvage this.

His fingers are splayed out on Harry's neck, lips moving savoring in the taste, his body responding instantly. He wants to move closer…closer…be so  _close._  But he can’t. He can feel the hesitation, the harsh tug, the distance between their bodies.  _He doesn’t want this?_

He releases his hold and is pushed against the facade of the building. He tentatively looks up and finds the anger in Harry's eyes, the  _loathing?_  Is that what he's reading?

“Why?” The man grunts as he wipes at his mouth. “You have no right-”

“I miss you.” He chokes out between sobs. “I wanted to say-”

“ _No!_  I don't want to hear it. Why are you here?”  _This isn't Harry...this isn't him!!_  “You can’t just walk up to people and  _kiss_  them.”

“I...I don't-" He lowers his head, can sense his confidence dissipating.

“You were not supposed to come!” He cannot look up.  _What's going on?_  “Nobody wants the boss-man here.”

“W-why are you-” He starts to cry. He doesn't know where this anger came from. Was it because he was too harsh? Didn't let him speak? “I'm sorry I-”

“ _No, Lewis_ .” He flinches at the nickname. “Don't bother me anymore. Whatever we had was meant to be temporary. You said it yourself….” He pauses. “I was  _using_  you.” He isn't stopping. “...for a quick  _fuck_ .” He sinks further into himself, leans heavily against the wall, feels the dread consume him. “And here you thought I’d actually be interested in a long term relationship  _with you!_ ? I’m leaving! We’ll  _never_  see one another again! Why would I even consider wasting my time?” He’s sobbing, his wall crumbled. “You really thought it was something more?!” He’s pathetic. “Whatever, think what you want. I’m going back in…I would just leave if I were you.” Harry turns on his heel and walks into the bar.

He slides down the brick wall unable to remain standing as the weight of the world rests uncomfortably on his shoulders.

**Scene Nine: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 22:30**

If he didn't walk away...Louis would know.

He runs to the bathroom, allows the tears to spill from his eyes, can still feel Louis watching him, can taste his lips on his. He touches his neck, wishes those fingers were still gripping him, tugging him... _it worked._  He did it, he hurt Louis in the worst way, hopefully convinced the man to hate his guts, was believable.  _After hearing those sobs…they practically killed me_.

He touches his chest to calm his nerves.

Harry sensed him in the crowd, felt those eyes on him, willed his mind to block him and  _never make contact_ . He had to come up with a plan on the spot, could only think of Stan and the hurtful words that douche spewed on a daily basis.  _I hit below the belt…hit Louis where it hurts_. And he is so-

“Hey you okay?” He turns around to find Sandy. “Woah there. What happened?”

“I'm good. Sorry it was the song.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. Absolutely.” He lies.

“Good try. Is it because boss-man showed up? Look I didn’t tell him!”

“ _Don’t mention him._ ” He seethes. “He was not meant to come. He must have remembered I had a show and came on his own.” His head is aching.  _Lies, Louis my god…I’m falling apart._

“Yeah he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Just…stop. Let’s go.”

They walk back into the bar without another word.

“Niall is playing.” Sandy points out. Harry listens closely and sure enough, the kid is singing his tune.

“Too much to ask.” Harry remembers. “He's got talent.”

“I guess.” Sandy shrugs.

“Alright I have to get back up there.”

“Yup. Have fun.”

He can't do this...his eyes hurt, his body is stiff, his hands are sore.  _I need Louis I need his touch_.

He knows that's all it'll take to heal his heart.

**Scene Ten: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 10:30pm**

He's a ball on the ground.

He's crying, releasing it all, feeling his heart break all over again as the sorrow fills him and bombards his very being.  _I was a quick fuck. An easy target._ He hates himself for being ignorant.  _When will I fucking learn? Men like me could never attract men like him!_

“Louis? Are you Louis Tomlinson?” He swipes at his face and slowly lifts his head towards the foreign voice. He was so lost in his head he didn't hear anyone approach.

“Uh…” He croaks.

“Oh good. It is you. You're coming with me.”


	2. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may proceed :)

**Scene One: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 10:30PM**

“What?”

He searches this random person’s eyes, finds blankness, an endless pit. There is no kindness there…it’s cold, dark, and disconcerting and he needs to escape as soon as possible. The man is on a mission and Louis is his goal.

“You heard me. You’re coming with me.” There is a hint of an accent, no trace of friendliness, a sense of detachment.

“W-why?” Remnants of tears continue running down his cheeks. “What do you want with me?”

“No questions.” _Gee, sounds just like Stanley._

The man reaches out, grasps his bicep, and tugs him forward onto his unstable feet.

“Wait! What's going on?” He looks behind the dark haired man to find three others. “W-what-”

“Hurry up. We have to get out of here.” He isn't given a chance to see who spoke, isn't given an opportunity to fight back or even breathe. He's turned away and shoved into the facade of the building while his hands are forcibly restrained behind him.

“You have the wrong person!!” He struggles against the bindings around his wrists. “Please stop!” He yells. “No!” His back is screaming, his arm aches, his emotions are unstable. He's with his ex all over again...being abused, tied down, subjected to harsh treatment, _starving._ “Get the fuck off of me!!” He yells as he bucks his hips out. He's pinned, completely helpless, _trapped_. “Let me go!!”

“Shut him up!” He hears. “We have to leave!”

“No… _no!”_ He's fighting with all of his strength against this person but they're much bigger...much sturdier... bulkier. “Help me! Someone!” His eyes are blurred with tears, heart hammering in his chest, back hurting.

“Use this. We cannot attract people! Fucking take it!”

“Then hold him down for me! The little shit is strong!”

“Don't make him uncomfortable!”

“Everyone shut the fuck up. Give me that.” He struggles again, feels the bindings loosening, feels a semblance of hope burst in his chest. _I've got this. I'll just_ -

His body is pushed into the brick and just like that his chances of escaping disappear. He's running out of options. _What do I do!?_ _I can't overtake four men!_

“Please don't hurt him!” That voice...who is that? Why would they care?

“Shut up! Get the car.”

He has a strange taste in his mouth, feels the burning on his cheeks, the familiar chaffing. _What's happening to me?_ His mind lost all clarity, rational thoughts, and all coherencies. The only word coming to mind: freedom. He lost it all besides that. He cannot speak, cannot move, cannot-

“Don't forget the bag.” His hat is knocked off his head and soon replaced with cloth shutting him into complete darkness. _Now I can't see._

He's petrified.

He's numb.

He's in pain.

“Okay let's go.” He is dragged away, forced against his will towards a random destination, towards something unknown. He's outwardly sobbing into the bag, feels the tears saturating the fabric, can barely move. “Can we hurry up please!?”

“He isn't walking!”

“Then lift him up!!” He strains against the rope, pulls away, becomes _difficult_. He has to try, has to fight, has to gain his _freedom_. _Not like this...I can't become a statistic._ He twists his hips, thrashes about, struggles against the rope.

The man is slowly losing his grip.

“Shit! What's going on!?” He turns to the left and notes his abductor lost his hold. _Yes!!_ He kicks out his leg and is freed. _I did it...I did it!!_

He runs blindly, uses his feet to carry him to...anywhere but here, keeps his mind on the task at hand, steadies his breathing.

“Seriously!?”

“Fucking get him!!”

There's a lot of shuffling, hushed cursing, shouts, a familiar _pop_. He doesn't realize it at first, only notices his leg give out and feels the wetness soak into the denim of his jeans. He collapses to the ground, smacks his head on the pavement, takes in gulps of air to clear his mind and sort out what may have transpired.

It's a dull ache, a minor scrape, a surface wound, non-life threatening. He does a mental scan of his body, awaits the signal that confirms he is stable and in control. _That was nothing. I'm fine. Just need to-_

Everything catches up to him, comes to life, makes him pause. His breath is coming in quick puffs as the pain begins to build into a burning sensation. It's unrelenting, it's like fire on his skin with no relief in sight. He cries out, begins to writhe on the ground, clenches and unclenches his hands. Instead of freedom, his mind can only compute _pain_ , all consuming _pain._

They fucking shot him.

“Get him up!”

“Why the fuck did you shoot him!? You twat!”

“That was loud. We need to get him to the truck-”

“Shut the fuck up! Grab him.”

He's lifted off the ground and hauled over one of the abductor’s shoulders, carried to where ever. He begins sobbing at the pain, at his current predicament, at the loss his heart has just suffered from. He's completely raw, exposed, his emotions spent.

Who will come after him? Will anyone notice he's gone? When was the last time he spoke with his mother? Who will feed his cats?

He cries harder at that thought. His cats.

“Open up.”

“The trunk!?”

“Let him sit in the back.” He's graciously shoved through a small space, propped up against a seat and flanked by two large bodies. His fingers are crushed by his ass, his leg is throbbing, his head aches from falling, he can't think. _What's happening?_

Not only is he feeling claustrophobic from the bag, but he has no space to place his injured leg or any room to get comfortable in general. _I need fresh air._ He hangs his head and continues to quietly sniffle because honestly, that's all he is capable of. _What do I do now?_

He's suffocating and they do not _care_.

But who are these men? They remind him of the secret service or some governmental agency. Why come after him though? Did he steal? Not pay his bills? Is being arrested for tax evasion? But he never did anything illegal. He was quiet, worked, earned an honest living. Maybe this was Stan? Is he this angry? Maybe it's his secretary’s fiancé seeking revenge? It's his only conclusion, the only idea that comes to mind. _Makes sense I suppose. Maybe Stanley really does love me._

“How can we conceal this? We have to walk through the airport!”

“No you fuck, we don't have to. We are taking the private jet.” Louis listens intently at the bickering, attempts to gain as much information as possible, removes his attention from the blood seeping from the wound. _A plane?_

“The crew will suspect-”

“If you don't shut up I'll throw you out of the car.”

“When do we take off?” _Where are we going?_

“When we get there and if that doesn't happen within the hour, the boss will be non-too pleased with us.”

“So speed up!”

“I can't break the law!”

“Fuck that, go faster.”

He feels the vehicle pick up speed, can feel the men shuffle next to him, tries to forget the throbbing in his calf. It's inching slowly up his leg, it _hurts_ , and there is nothing he can do. He squirms, tries to free his hands, relieve the stiffness to find any modicum of comfort in the tight confines of the seat.

“Quit moving!” One of the men nudges him. “Are we almost there?”

**Scene Two: ????**

He assumes they're at the airport.

He can't tell. Everything is dark, his sense of direction completely gone. He hasn't been able to think much past his goddamn leg and really he's tired of suffering. He figured Harry being angry with him was enough, but having to deal with this?

Where is he even going? Where could they possibly take him? He is an average Joe, not a member of the royal family, no one of great importance. _So why am I here!?_

The car abruptly stops, the momentum forcing him forward.

“Let’s go.” The men exit the vehicle. “Well, who’s going to take him?” There's silence. _Good maybe they'll leave me._

“This is wrong. We shouldn't be doing this.”

“We _have_ to! It'll help bring Har-...OWE!!”

“Shut up you shit. I'll fucking take him.” He feels his arm yanked to the left and collapses onto the seat. “Get up!!” He's pulled out of the vehicle, nearly loses his footing, feels the bullet wound scream in protest as he moves. He bites the rope. _Oh fuck._

“Be gentle! He's hurt.”

“Whatever. Here take his other arm.” He's practically carried, can barely reach the ground as they make their way towards...what exactly? He feels gusts of wind against the bag and his coat and he can only wonder where the fuck they're taking him. _They said the airport...are we on the tarmac?_

“Carry him.”

“Alone!?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Two large arms wrap around his waist and haul him up. “What are you doing? Let's go!!” He's carried up a steep staircase. He wants to kick out his good leg but knows he'll get dropped or worse...shot again so he remains as still as possible. _I'm further away from safety...so far away. Will I be okay? Will everything work out?_

_Am I going to die?_

“Drop him in the corner.” _Drop!?_ He wants to yell out in protest but the man let's go, allows him to fall square on his ass. He releases a yelp as he slowly topples over.

“You can’t just leave him there!!” He is straightened back up. “There. Do you need anything?” _Who is this!?_ He shakes his head yes because he needs to escape!! “How about water? It's going to be a long flight.” _Long flight!?_ “I'll grab you a pillow.”

“Stop talking to the hostage and get over here.”

“But he needs attention. His jeans are all bloodied! We can't ignore the injury!”

“Don't care. We have to reach out to the Ki-...the boss.”

“It could become infected!”

“Sit down or I'll drag your ass along the tarmac!”

Louis remains on the floor, ignores the men's hushed tones, their arguments, and the sound of the jet preparing to take off.

He's stuck in his head, so deep below the surface he feels the pressure weighing down on his chest. He can't breathe...his heart is aching...he needs attention. He cannot survive on his own, he needs a hand to pull him out, needs the extra boost.

Louis needs a partner, a lifelong friend, a person he can hug and kiss, a man he can depend on. _But I didn't want to be weak! I wanted to be my own person...get to know the real me_.

He begins profusely sweating, scrunches his eyes closed, has a slight case of vertigo. _Who is the real me?_ He wonders. _Will I ever find myself? Being trapped...will this help?_ _What's going to happen?_

_Am I going to die?_

_How will I die?_

_Of a broken heart…will I be alone?_

He may or may not have fallen asleep. His mind is fuzzy, leg in immense pain, fingers cramped, stomach in knots. He feels as if death is at his doorstep waiting for him to simply succumb. _Really it would be easy. So easy. It would feel glorious I'm sure._

What does he have to live for? Will he be missed? Will anyone notice he's gone? _Will Harry think of me? Will he remember me as the mistake? The man who ruined his perfect image? I'll think of him though. I'll never forget him. He may find me disgusting but he was...what was he to me?_

“Hey.” _He_ _was special to me_. He awakes with a start and cries out at the throbbing in his calf. He scrunches his eyes closed and takes deep calming breaths. “Sorry. I'm so sorry. Please keep it down.” The cloth bag is removed from his head. “Crap, let me get this off.” He's looking at the man in front of him ignoring the glaringly bright room. He's a red head, has blue eyes and is a little peculiar looking but he doesn't care. He's being cared for, looked after. The rope is removed from his mouth. “I'm sorry.” The man looks over his shoulder. “You were never supposed to be taken. In fact, you were the last resort. But some things turned south and our _boss_ had other plans.”

“W-what-” He clears his throat. “What's happening? Where am I going? I didn't do anything. I swear.” He wants to touch his face.

“I can't tell you. But know I'll be waiting for the opportune moment to help you.” The man looks over again at the sleeping bodies. “It cannot be right away.”

“Why?” He begins to tear up. “I...I'm...I'm scared.” He admits. “Are they gonna hurt me?” _Will they kill me?_

“They shouldn't. That was not part of the bargain.”

“Bargain?”

“You're being used as leverage.” He looks away from this random person. _I want to go home._ “Your presence will...be beneficial for-” There's a loud thud. “ _Fuck._ ” They look to the group. “I better go back. Just be quiet and everything will be fine.”

“Wait!”

“Sh! I mean it… _don’t speak_.” The man pulls the bag over his head.

“What about my hands?”

“I'm sorry those have to stay. Do you need anything?”

“Freedom.”

“Hah, you're funny. Soon, Louis. Soon.”

He flinches at his name. _I'm fucked._

**Scene Three: Harry's Condo, 13:30**

“What do you _mean_ he isn’t there again?!”

He's pacing the length of the condo. Supposedly Louis has not been at work (or seen in general) for two nights and _nobody knows_ where he is.

“Niall, are you sure the Lieutenant doesn't know?” He runs a hand through his hair. “She has to know!”

“I'm telling you! She doesn't!”

“Has anyone gone to the house!?”

“I don't know! I'm not his mother!”

“You're his friend, no?” He practically spits into the receiver. “Why didn't you check up on him?!”

“What about you, huh?! Why did Louis look surprised when he saw me at the bar? Did you purposely leave him out? He was different the past week. I _knew_ something was wrong and it wasn’t just him almost losing his house. Did you have something to do with it?!” He stops and drops his hand.

“I-” _I am selfish._

“What did you do to him? Why did you hurt him!” He stares blankly at the wall, notices the unevenness of the plaster, notes the large crack extending from the ceiling to the baseboard. “No, you hurt him. _I know_ you did. You changed him you know? Made him a happier person.” He feels a single tear escape his eye. _I was not meant to affect him like this._ “I could sense the difference, can see his mannerisms and personality change. He was _fucking_ happy!!” He swiftly swipes at his cheek.

“I didn't know-”

“And you ruined it! Ruined him! You made him-”

“I _love_ him!” He yells into the phone, shocked at his admission, obviously unable to contain his emotions any longer. “I…” He takes a seat on the couch. “I am in love with Louis.” He says again. “I love him so much.” He rests his head in his hand.

“Then why aren't you with him? What happened?”

“We got into a fight-”

“And now you have no _clue_ where he is!? If you love him, you need to find him, be with him!!”

“It's not that simple.” _He needed to be angry with me, hate me, forget about me!!!_ _And I succeeded._

“I don't see how that's possible. You're in love with him. You don't know where he is. You refuse to go to him! What's your problem!?”

“Niall, there is something you don't know.” He starts as he swipes at his face.

“Try me.”

“I need for you to meet me at Louis’.”

“Okay, fine. But how will we get in?” _I own it I have a spare._

 _“_ I know where the spare is.” He hangs up and makes his way out the door. _My father._

**Scene Four: Louis’ House, 14:15**

He admitted it.

And it hurts more than it should.

“You're...what?” Niall asks as he pets Luke. They tended to the cats and immediately fed them upon arrival. It was a pitiful sight. “Are you serious?”

“I...am. And I am being forced into an arranged marriage on top of it.”

“They still have those things!?”

“Well, my _preference_ was seen as unacceptable.”

“So your dad just agreed!?”

“It was _his idea!_ ” He absently pets George. “I agreed to it. I agreed to this entire arrangement. I get to live my teen years as a normal person then once I reach twenty five I have to...you know go back and-”

“But you were fifteen! How could your dad throw this on you?”

“Endless amounts of money, live in a city of my choice, be amongst regular people.”

“Stupid. Money isn't everything!”

“At that time it _was_. So how could I turn that down?”

“I guess...so you came to live here until you were...Wait you said twenty five. Aren't you-”

“Yes I've been putting it off for the past two years. I am not ready yet.”

“One is never ready to rule a country.”

“That and I wanted more _time_. My life will change. I'll be confined to endless meetings, stupid parties, acting proper twenty four seven. It's going to fucking suck.”

“I see...uh...well are you going to leave when Louis comes back?”

“I know where he is.” Well, he suspects.

“What!? Then why are we here and not going to him?!” Niall throws his hands in the air.

“I thought of it on the way over.” He touches his lips, remembers Louis kissing him, felt the desperation in those lips, the affection. _What I'd give to go back in time._

“Well!?”

“He's heading to England…or he's there already.” _Two nights...or was it three? Shit._

 _“_ Wait... why…” The blonde’s face lights up. “OH! Oh... _Oh..._ that's-”

“Daddy is angry with me. So he hit me where it hurts the most.” He touches his chest. “My heart.”

“How did he find out about Louis?” He shrugs. There is no explanation...and he hasn't gotten that far yet. “Is someone watching you?”

“Wouldn't surprise me honestly. He probably has people hiding everywhere. You could be one of them for all I know.”

“No man! That's too much work!”

“I'm kidding. I'm just saying it could be a colleague, someone in the building I own...a close friend.” He mulls that thought over. _Who could it be?_

“So you suspect your father took him?”

“Not him personally. But he sent men absolutely. He's greedy.” He pulls out the spare key from his pocket. “Take this. Tend to the cats, watch over the house. I have to go.” He concludes.

“Go!? But you'll never come home!”

“This isn't home anymore.”

“Louis is.” The blonde deadpans. “Louis is your home.”

“He…” He diverts his gaze and quickly swipes at his eyes.

“I get it. It's okay.”

“It is not...that's my problem. He wasn't meant to be. It was just a stupid crush.”

“What do you mean?” Niall crosses his arms over his chest. “Why are your feelings towards him _not_ okay? You can love anyone you want!”

“I _can't_. I am not allowed to love anyone except a woman I have never met before, a person I am being forced to show affection to! How am I supposed to do this?” He clutches a chunk of his hair. “Put on a show? Pretend she is my world? Act as if my life is in order when I am a complete mess inside? Feel so helpless as I watch the one person I love suffering because of me?”

“You...will figure it out.”

“I have to. I'll have to make it work! I don't have a choice now do I!?” He releases his death grip on his curls. “It's all a fucking game.”

“You don't have to play!”

“Imagine what the people will think, huh?”

“Who? About what?”

“ _My_ people. How would they feel if they found out their prince was gay? Can you imagine the repercussions? How much they will despise me?”

“It's not considered _wrong_ any longer! Don't feel like this!”

“Parliament is old school, their traditions force them to live in a box, forces them to be _blind_ to these issues. I'll never win!”

“No you will. You'll succeed, make a difference, be a voice. You don't have to get married to some random person! You'll get what you deserve! Don't think it's over.”

“It is over. As long as my father is in control, I'm stuck. He'll continue to make me suffer. Hurt my heart! Who knows what he'll do next.” He rubs at his eyes. “I have to save him. Louis doesn't deserve this.”

“Then go to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“I will. I'll tell him he is my world, the air I breathe, the love that resides in my heart and soul, the strength to keep me going.” He hands the key over. “I will hold him and apologize...let him go and live peacefully.”

“Let him go!?”

“I have to! He needs-”

“You. He needs you, damn it.” Niall takes the key and eyes him. “Don't leave him!”

“I can’t stay with him though!! I'll be leading him on! How could I hurt him again?”

“He isn't ignorant.”

“But I can't witness the pain in his eyes...I can't break his heart. He deserves someone who is available... someone he can be with for the long haul. Not me when I can never be with him for life.”

“You can make it work! Tell your father, speak to him. He has to understand.”

“You don't know my father! He's a monster, manipulative, a complete douche.”

“He always seemed friendly.”

“ _No._ That's his public persona...kind-hearted, family oriented, a real _gem_. He's awful.”

“Harry, what are you going to do then?”

“Bring Lou back. In fact, I'll need your help.”

“With what?”

“Tell Campbell.”

“ _Everything_!?”

“Well, no…keep it brief...say Lou went home for an emergency. Say he'll be back as soon as possible. Don't give specifics.”

“What about you?”

“I already spoke to her. I'm covered.”

“A-alright. Anything else?”

“When Louis returns, he has to sign the paperwork on the counter. He is the new owner of my condo.”

“He's... what!?”

“Yeah. I gave it to him...I also-”

“You're the one who purchased the house!!” He nods. “Oh my God... you are in love with him.”

“More than I'll ever express.”

“So…”

“Anyway, I'll need Stan.”

“Why!?”

“He can come to London and get him. It'll be easier on Lou. I don't know what my father will do to him…”

“Do…? What's going to happen?”

“Niall, I don't know.” _I hope nothing...I pray nothing._ “I have to go. Give Stan the details.”

“Okay!”

“I'll see you.”

**Scene Five: ????**

“Get up.”

He's jostled awake, tugged up, and forced to walk. He's stiff, his body is exhausted, spent from the trip, weak from lack of nourishment and sleep. The red headed man instructed him _not to speak_ but he really has to pee. _How do I ask?!_

He feels a slight breeze and realizes they're exiting the jet. But where is he? When will he find out? Will _he ever_ find out?

He's pushed forward, instructed when to step down on the stairs, feels the beads of sweat on his forehead. He's past the crying, past the fear, past the anger (not past the pain, his leg is on fire). He has to focus, escape, find a way out of these bindings, avoid going any further than this. He tests his fingers, wiggles his hands, twists his wrists. _There's some slack._ He has a chance.

“Come on!” He's tugged further and onto solid ground. He continues with his movements to loosen the rope. _Almost_!! He ignores the burning, ignores the stinging. He has to free himself.

“He's limping.” _You think!?_ He wants to snap. “He needs medical attention.”

“When we get to the estate.”

“But-”

“No! Jesus Christ, shut up! Take his arm.” He's pushed sideways into another body. _Free my hands...free my hands!!_

“Where is the car?”

“Right in front of my face.”

“What about customs?”

“We're being given a courtesy.”

“How!?”

“Are you really going to question the Ki-...the boss?”

“Uh…”

“Ugh you guys are useless.”

The bindings are loosening...he has more movement in his wrists. _Just a little bit more!_ He is distracted, so focused he did not lift his foot up enough, hits a crack in the pavement, feels his calf turn awkwardly and the imminent pain that follows. He yells out, trips, and topples to the ground.

He scrunches his eyes closed, bites the inside of his mouth, begins to breathe heavy. _Holy fuck holy fuck._

“Get him into the car!”

“But he's hurting!!”

“The sooner we get him up, the sooner he can see a physician!” He doesn't want to move. He wants to remain here and rest, be left alone, go home. There's a gentle hand on his arm.

“On the count of three...one...two...three!” He's hoisted to his feet and practically collapses into the person. “Just a little bit longer. We're almost to the car.” _Car!?_

“No!!!” He accidentally yells. He twists out of the hands, fights with a new found strength, prays for help, begs for mercy. “Please leave me alone. I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“Take him damn it!!”

“ _No!_ Get your disgusting hands off me!” He yells once more.

“Good to know the little lad can speak.” They easily seize him, drag his small frame against his will into another random direction. “Get in the bloody car you twink.”

“ _FUCK you._ ” He snaps as he's unceremoniously shoved through the door.

“Liked it better when you _couldn't_ speak.” The man mumbles.

“Where are you taking me!” He shouts.

“Please be quiet. They will only lash out at you!” It's the friendly red head. He's back. “Louis please. Just remain as calm as possible.” How? How can he even think of being calm? He's been abducted, taken to...he doesn't _even_ know and they're telling him to be calm!?

“I can't!!” He yells into the cloth. “Let me fucking go!!” He struggles in the backseat, attempts to loosen the ropes, ignores his body's protests.

“Louis stop!”

“Fuck you!!! Get off of me!!” He moves away from the red head. He refuses to accept his care and affection... refuses anything from these men...his abductors. He wants to cry, shout until his lungs give out, rip his leg off, gouge his eyes out... _anything_ to relieve the strain on his heart.

He wants to be let go. He wants to see his cats. He wants to call his mother. He wants... _him._

Harry's face is in the forefront of his mind, his beautiful perfection dangling in front of him, tempting him, reminding him of what he'll _never_ be able to have or touch. It's a haunting, a goddamn demon coaxing him towards his demise, towards his death. Those green eyes will give him nightmares, prevent him from ever being truly happy, leave him cold and alone, keep him begging. _You were supposed to be mine. You were supposed to care. You were supposed to be the love of my life! Not hate me. Not shy away from my kiss or dispose of me..._

He cries harder into the bag, ceases his movements, collapses into the leather seat ignoring his injuries.

Nothing hurts more.

Nothing compares to the loss.

Nothing will ever be the same.

His heart is shattered.

**Scene Six: ????**

_He can't stop._

_His fingers are drawn to that body, obsessed with the softness, transfixed on the curves. He needs more. He needs it all._

_He detaches his lips from the man's neck with a smack, runs his hands up the torso underneath him, waits for the shiver, listens for the sweet moans. It's the perfect package._ You're mine.

_“I am...y-yours. Always.” The voice was weak, laced with the adoration he cannot get enough of._

_“I never meant to speak aloud.” He dips his head and quickly pecks the pair of lips in front of him. “You do something to me.”_

_“W-what do I do?” The man gently thrusts his hips up._

_“Screw with my head. Subconsciously that is. It's your being. It's everything.” Another peck, followed by a nudge._

_“Kiss me harder.” The man begs from below._

_“I have to save the best for last.”_

_“Everything you do is the best. So just do it now.”_

_“You're impatient.”_

_“I've waited my entire life to find you...to be with you. It's my only wish.”_

_“Only wish?”_

_“Put your lips on me.”_

_He lowers his head once more, feels the man's breath hitting his cheeks, stares into those blue irises, becomes lost in their depths, feels that pull he has yet to become accustomed to. He's losing his control and he doesn't care. He has to taste those lips, bury himself in the awaiting warmth he has come to long and crave, the person as a whole he cannot live without._

_He inches in._

_He's so close._

_He puckers his lips._

_“L-Lou.” He squeaks out. He closes his eyes, parts his lips, leans further in-_

He jolts awake, runs a hand down his sweated face, shifts in his seat attempting to readjust the bulge in his already confining jeans. He's breathing heavy, can sense the excitement humming underneath his skin, can still feel the body under him, can smell that heavenly scent in his nose.

He wishes he did not dream of them together, especially being so close, and so intimate. It gave him false hope, put this idea in his head and heart that one day they can be together, be lovers, be partners...just _be._ _Maybe we can only be together when I'm asleep. At least I'll be happy then._

He doesn't ask for much, doesn't really expect anything for that matter. But what he cannot lay witness to, is the hurt in Louis’ eyes, the loss, the heartache. He wants to make sure the man is in one piece, content, and happy. _That's all I ask. Please someone_. If he finds the man in pieces, he will most likely fall apart with him.

He sighs, listens to the announcement that his flight is landing, takes deep reassuring breaths that Louis is in one piece and _okay_. He has to believe his father wants to maintain his pristine image, appear to be whole. So to have a hostage looming over his head? Ha! _Good. Maybe he'll crack. I can make him break._

He gathers his belongings and readies himself for a hasty exit.


	3. Remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may continue

**Scene One: ????**

There's a slight tug on his arm.

It's annoying. He wants to be left alone, sink deeper into himself, become lost in a dream, forget what is happening around him.

“Come on.” He's pulled forcibly. “ _Get up_.” He's dead weight, uncaring, being uncooperative, a pain in their asses. “You shit.” The man takes his uninjured leg and pulls him out of the backseat onto the gravel.

“Fuck you!” He yells. _At least I can speak._ “You're a wimp. Keeping my face covered, tying me down. What? You're afraid I'll escape? Four grown men can't take me down? Some tough guy you are.” The person grips his coat collar and pulls him forward.

“I really suggest you shut your mouth.”

“Why? What are you going to do to me, huh?” He struggles against the hand holding him. “I'm obviously needed for something, so killing me isn't an option. So what could you possibly-” He's backhanded across the face. His head whips to the side as blood explodes in his mouth. He ignores the throbbing and begins to chuckle. “That's it!?” _What the fuck am I doing?_ “You're a fucking pussy.” He spits. “You gotta do-” Another blow, this time on his cheek. He doesn't care. He'll egg the man on until he's satisfied. “Fucking _pussy!!”_

“Stop!!” The red head. “What are you doing!!”

“I'm putting this kid in his place.”

“ _No!_ We need him. Let me take him.”

“Whatever.” The man practically shoves him aside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The voice is directly in his ear. “Stay calm damnit!” The hand on his arm is gentle. “I said I'll help you. But right now you need medical attention. So please shut up and follow my lead!”

He is walking aimlessly through...he has no idea. His sneakered feet are hitting uneven gravel which could indicate a driveway or a path. Who knows. But there is light seeping through the fabric of the bag indicating the time of day. _How far did we travel?_

“Step up.” He tentatively lifts his leg. “Good. Almost there.”

“Where are we going?”

“Infirmary.”

“Oh.”

They walk further along. The gravel changes, now it's smooth, even, something solid. _A sidewalk?_ A door opens in the distance.

“Quickly. In here.” It's a heavily accented female voice. “Come on!”

“Try and limp faster.”

“Yeah good try. I can barely stand on my leg.”

“Shhh!!” He's pushed through and it's dark once again. “This way.” The two talk amongst themselves. “When did you land?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Okay, good. I'll tend to the boy-”

“You know I am twenty nine!!”

“-and you can bring him before the boss. But I need to look at that leg first.”

“Please? He nearly escaped and they thought it was smart to shoot the kid-”

“I'm not a kid!!” He yells.

“Shhhh!” The hand on his arm squeezes in warning. “We have to make this quiet and painless.” They turn a corner and take a quick right. “Okay sit him up on the table and take off the bindings and bag.”

“Thank God.” He grumbles. They pull the cloth off and he cannot help but squint at the brightness. He looks around and it's like any other examining room, basic...nothing dangerous, nothing...he could use to defend himself. _Fuck_. He licks his dry lips.

“He is handsome.” He doesn't really pay attention to the small woman, he doesn't care what she thinks of him. _I feel ugly. I've always felt ugly._ “No wonder...anyway, I'm Caroline. Can I look at your leg?”

“I don't have a choice.” He whispers. He is searching every surface, the walls, anything for a small yet deadly weapon he can protect himself with.

“Why is your face bruising?” She gently grazes his chin. He recoils at the touch. “Is that blood on your teeth?”

“It's tender stop!” He shakes his head.

“Untie his hands.” The red head works on the rope.

“Crap your wrists are raw!” The man comments. “What did you do!?”

“Tried to escape.” He comments truthfully. “Obviously was unsuccessful.”

“I have to cut your jeans.” The woman says.

“Whatever.” He looks down at his free hands and takes in the rope burn. _Yup, I'm used to this._ “Owe!!!” He kicks out his leg, attempts to push her away from the wound. “Stop it hurts!!”

“I have to rip your jeans! Please don't move.” Caroline gently cuts the blood laden denim, exposes more of the injury. He doesn't look, he's afraid to find the damage, afraid of what it'll look like. “Okay not bad.”

“For _who_!?” He yells. He diverts his gaze. “Fucking hurts.”

“I know. I'll clean it.” He licks at his lips again.

“I need water.”

“Okay I'll get some.” The red head leaves the room. _Now is my chance._

“Don't think about leaving, sweetie.” He stares at the top of the woman's head. “There are soldiers lining the property. It would not be wise.”

“Where are we?”

“I...can't tell you.” She dabs a wet cloth over the injury. “That's classified-”

“Oh my God that burns!!” He kicks his leg out again. “What is that!?”

“Its antiseptic to clean the wound. It's getting infected.” She methodically applies the liquid to his leg. “Yes your presence here is highly classified.”

“Yeah you kidnapped me. That's grounds for an arrest! And highly illegal. You're all in deep shit.” _I have to sound threatening, no?_

“Look, we didn't want you here. This was meant to bring-”

“Okay here. It's nice and cold.” The red head appears. “Is this good?”

“Yeah.” He takes the bottle and chugs its contents. “Crap. I was thirsty.” He swipes his mouth. “What were you saying?”

“Oh...uh…” Caroline looks to the man and stalls. “Well, okay let me wrap this up…”

“Wait what's going on?” Louis questions. “I have a right to know! Why the fuck am I here...in fact where is here!?”

“We can't tell you.” The lady responds.

“But why not?”

“You cannot find out where you are...ever. You'll leave as quietly as you came in.” He jerks his leg.

“So...I will leave?” He whispers. His heart swells with hope. “I won't die?”

“No. We won't let anyone hurt you.” The red head says.

“Who are you?” Louis asks him.

“I'm Teddy. Uh...Ed.”

“Okay. Caroline, Ed...thank you?”

“Don't thank me. I helped bring you here. I tried my best, know that please.”

“How did you find me? Were you guys watching me?”

“Yes for...a very long time.”

“...what!? How long!?” Caroline and Ed look at one another. “Holy shit. Why am I here!?” The tears in his eyes were unexpected. “This is ridiculous. I was living my life. Enjoying...well almost...not until Harry broke my heart...ugh sorry.” He eyes the two individuals in front of him. They're staring. “What? Did I say something?”

“No! Not at all. Oh look I'm finished!” Caroline rushes out. “Ed look, he's good. Alright off you go!”

“What-?” Louis is tugged off the table. “Hey watch it!!”

“Sorry.” The red head apologizes.

“How is your mouth?” Caroline asks.

“Uh...it's fine I guess.” He touches his cheek. “It'll be fine. The guy had shitty aim.”

“Sorry, mate but we need to put these back on.” He looks to Ed's hands. _Fuck._

“Can we pretend?” He suggests.

“No. Not in front of the boss.”

“Who is this _boss_? The King of England?”

“Wait, how did-” Ed starts but the woman smacks his arm.

“Ha!! Yeah!! Very funny.” She begins cackling. “This kid is good!!”

“I'm not a kid.” Louis reminds them.

“Okay let's go! Can't keep the boss waiting!” Ed swiftly ties his wrists together and throws the bag back over his disheveled hair.

“Ugh…”

They're out in the corridor once again heading towards...the boss? 

**Scene Two: ????**

They haven't stopped.

He needs to rest. His leg may be wrapped but it's still hurting, weak, unable to sustain much pressure at any given time. Louis needs to sit down.

“There you are.” He freezes at the voice. “Where the fuck did you go?” Louis is tugged forward by a foreign hand.

“He needed his leg tended to because of your stupidity.” Ed replies.

“The boss should _never_ have to wait!” He's pulled further.

“Hey! Quit it!” He yells. He's tired of being yanked in every direction.

“Shut up.” And they're off again. “Don't you dare say a word or you'll seriously regret it.” What can he possibly say? He hasn't a clue who he's going up against!

There are hushed voices in the distance, the shuffling of boots against the floor, the loud _smack_ of a hand against a solid surface. He isn't quite sure what is happening or what he's walking into. He is certain of one thing though, he is afraid. He is petrified of this meeting.

He still does not understand why he is here, why on Earth his pitiful life was chosen out of everyone else. _Why am I so special? Why do I stick out like a sore thumb when all I ever wanted was to be invisible?_

He wants to reach out and find Ed, see if he is still with them, protecting him... offering his comfort. _How could I reject his help!? Now it's all I hope for_!

“Here we are.” His nerves spike, his heart is racing, his blood is boiling under his skin. He can't do it. He needs to escape. He needs... _Why does Harry pop in my head at a time like this? He hates me_.

“Our guest of honor has arrived!” He hears the voice...that familiar voice. _Where have I heard it before?_

“ _Move._ ” The man harshly whispers in his ear. He shies away from him, dips his head, begs to meld into the wall. _No...no...no!!_ “Here, sir.” He's given one last shove and stumbles forward into a...chair?

“Now, now. Let's be nice, Benjamin. We do not want to mistreat our guests.” _That monster has a name?_ “Hello there.” He keeps his head down. “Ben, bring him closer.” He instinctively steps back. _No, this isn't right.. something's not right._ His subconcious can sense it… “Hello…oh face him towards me.” He's turned to the left. “Ah there we have it. Sorry. You see, it's best we keep my identity somewhat a secret.” His fingers are clamped together behind his back. He cannot even bother loosening the binds. His brain is fuzzy. “Once we get what I need, your presence will no longer be necessary.” _Home? Can I go home?_ “But of course, that all depends.” A sob is lodged in his throat. The lump is choking him, making his eyes burn and chest tighten. He isn't quite sure what this feeling is. “Oh dear, are you shaking? Do you need to sit down?” _I'm shaking?_ He does a mental body scan and sure enough...it's uncontrollable. He's slowly losing his composure. “I'll make this quick. You see, you're here because of someone else. You're here against your will because I require _something_ and you're the key. You hold that power.” The man begins to cough. It's grotesque and sickening to witness. “You _hold that power_ , Louis!” He recoils at the mention of his name. _Don't say it!!_ “It baffles me. Why you. Have you asked yourself that? Louis, tell me?” He jams his chin into his chest. “Benjamin, bring him closer.” _No. I can't. I can't do this!_ He's pushed forward. “Ah yes, Louis.” The man takes hold of the collar of his coat and pulls. “Mmm, you're smaller than I thought.” He blanches and instinctively shuffles his feet back. “Much smaller. More miniscule. You're a runt.” He moves to the right to loosen the hold on his coat. “I cannot look at you in the eyes.” This person is evil. “Do you understand why, Louis?” He freezes in place. “Louis!” The man yells. “I _refuse_ to look you in the face. Your very being halted my plans. You! Of all people!!” _What's he talking about!?_ “And now you're here... you're here when this could have all been easily avoided.” The man begins coughing again...more like hacking. It's making him sick especially in such close proximity. “The person I sought after for years, the very man that unbeknownst to him destroyed my carefully detailed plans.” The fingers on his coat tighten. “ _You._ ” He can sense the anger. “You fucked it up, brought me to this, subjected me to do the unimaginable! Me!? Abduct a man against his will for my own personal gain?!” _What is he doing?!_   “I'm a very ill man, Louis. I have months...week...days practically. I did not have time for your petty _shit_ to get in my fucking way.” The man is beginning to tremble. “If he doesn't come…” He gives Louis one final shake. “I cannot even fathom what may happen.” The hands push him away. “Benjamin, please. I'm finished. I need to rest.”

“Where-” Ben begins.

“We'll need him eventually. For now, keep him below.” _Below where!?_

“Sir.” Those grubby hands are on his shoulders.

“Where are you taking me!!” He yells. He can't help it! He has to do something! “I'm nothing important!!”

“Oh dear...see, boy that's where you're wrong. It's unfortunate really. You should have ignored him. He's a selfish person you know.”

“Who!?” He releases the sob. “Who are you talking about? Who are you?!” He's being tugged backwards.

“That information you will never be privy to. Be off then child.” He's rushed from the room.

“Where am I going?” He mumbles as he stumbles along. His mind is jumbled. “W-what does he mean by _below_?”

“Remember when I said not to speak?” Ben tightens his hold.

“It's against my grain to shut up.” He states. “I'm too curious.”

“Well I suggest you keep your mouth shut.” They head through a door and down steep steps...and further down...further...until they finally hit bottom. _Below...where? Below where!?_

“You gotta tell me where we are!!” He attempts to plant his feet but Ben is so large and stocky. He doesn't stand a chance. “Please!! You can't treat a human being like this!!”

“Down here, Louis, you're property of the _boss_. Get used to it.”

They continue further _below_ , walk until his leg is screaming, walk until his ears pop from the pressure. _Holy fuck where are we?_ He felt the temperature change, can smell the dampness of the air. It's quiet, eerily silent save for their labored breaths and Louis’ sobs.

“W-what’s going to happen to me?” They stop abruptly.

“That's no concern of yours.”

“It's all of my concern!! What's happening!?” The bag is taken off his head and he is met with his abductor.

“In here.” He's turned around and pushed through a doorway. The room is stark, the ground is covered in a layer of dirt, the walls are cement, there are no windows, it's a hole. He can't even fight, cannot muster up the energy to push his way through. “Face the wall.” The tears are tickling his cheeks, the massive lump in his throat is growing, his sobs are choked with anguish. He doesn't care anymore. He lost all feeling in his legs, his arms, his entire body. His emotions are spent. The bindings around his wrists are removed, along with his coat and shirt. The air is frigid, stale, and full of dread. _Holy fuck I'm a prisoner...for doing nothing!!_ He holds his head in hands. “Lift your foot.” He does as instructed and now his shoes are taken off. “Welcome home.” Benjamin's voice is full of mirth. “Hope you enjoy our accommodations.” 

He collapses to the floor as the door slams shut behind him.

**Scene Three: London Heathrow International Airport, 15:50**

He rushes from the plane, practically runs through the airport until he reaches customs.

He left all of his shit in California, only took a small satchel, packed his essentials which included sheet music, a tooth brush, some socks, and Louis’ glasses. He doesn't know why he took them...he figured the man may need them at some point. Maybe he is being too practical, maybe he cares too much, maybe it's wishful thinking... _He'll probably want to kill me_. Especially after this...there is no going back.

He digs his hand in his pocket in search of his phone. He texted Stan, told him he must stay on alert, must be ready at the drop of a hat to come to England and pick Louis up, to bring him his passport, a change of clothes, _a little bit of home_ , protect him.

[H]: Just landed. Will text with details soon

[S]: I'm on standby.

The queue before him is immense. What he'd give to use his name to bypass the crowd, to get to his destination as quickly as possible. But he promised himself to never take advantage of his birthright and to never give his father the satisfaction. It means nothing to him, so he'll just wait, keep his head down and pretend he is just like everyone else-

“He's back!” ... _or not._ He turns around at the voice, regrets it immediately, wishes he wore his fedora and dark glasses to hide his face. He was hoping his hair would conceal him, give him some sort of protection or disguise. But nope. _I'm an idiot._ “Mum!! Look!!” The girl is pointing, making these grandiose hand gestures, attracting attention. He scoots behind a group of people to disappear out of sight. _Fuck!!_ He forgets sometimes...he is recognizable to most here...He goes against his wishes and finds the closest guard, shows his face and is through customs within five minutes. He despises it, hates the attention, hates _the perks_. _I wouldn't call it a perk. More like a prison sentence._

He continues his way through the airport, finds the exit, is about to hail a cab when he feels a gentle touch on his arm. He whips around in fear of it being a patron.

“Prince.” The suited man bows.

“Please. None of that.” He begs. “Do not draw any unnecessary attention towards us. I already have a few fans.” He finds the small group of girls behind him giggling and snapping pictures with their phones. He nearly rolls his eyes, almost flips them off….but _no_. He's home, he has a job to do, an image to uphold. He plasters on an award winning grin, turns around and gives a small wave.

“Sir, I am ready when you are.”

“Paul, how did you know I'd be here?” _Did you fucking hear about Louis? Is that why he's here?_

“The _King_ knew you'd come. Therefore he sent me.”

“That's because he took-”

“Why don't you give me your bag and get you to the country house?”

“The _country house_? Why there? Why aren't we-”

“It was a change of plans. He wanted a more intimate setting.” _Ugh…I guess I'm meeting my future...w-wife?_ He can't even think the word coherently.

“Sure, whatever. Can we go already?”

“As you wish, sir.” Paul hurries to the Rolls-Royce and swiftly opens the coach door. “Your ride.”

“Wow, Daddy wants to impress me, eh?” He takes in the sleek new vehicle. _This is all a ploy. I don't give a shit about this._ “Or he wants to hide something.”

“Please get in sir, we have a full day planned.”

“Oh I have no doubt.” _He'll distract me until I forget Louis is here. But I know better._ He slides into the seat and ignores the cheers erupting around him. _This never did anything for me. I loved my simple life as a cop...well, a fancier simple life...Who am I kidding? I was spoiled._

“Your father-”

“Where is Louis?” He asks the moment the car leaves the curb. He isn't wasting time. “I'm serious. I know he's here. _I know_ my father took him.” He finds Paul's eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Prince-”

“ _No!!_ Cut the shit. Where the fuck is he? How can my father be so brazen? Think he can abuct a man from another country!? Bring him here to tempt me back?! I said I was coming. I told him!!”

“ _Harry_. Enough.”

“I will not stop until I get answers. I refuse to let my _father_ treat another human being with such little care and respect. This wasn't Louis’ fault! It was mine and mine alone.” He looks out the window, squashes his rising anger in order to remain in control of his emotions. “He doesn't deserve it, Paul. He means no harm I swear it!” He practically begs. “Please!!”

“I have no control over your father's actions. He acted and this was the result.”

“But-”

“No! I will not say any more. It's enough.”

“It's low...the lowest of the _low_. How could you go along with this!?”

“I have no choice.” Paul picks up speed. “We all _had no choice_.”

“Everyone has a _fucking_ choice. We all make them, choose what we feel is right or wrong, use our gut instinct to drive us in the right direction! But this!? You simply comply without thinking of the repercussions? Do you have _any idea_ how this will effect my father's image!?”

“Save your speech, Prince. I was instructed to do a job and I am fulfilling my duty.”

“How can you live with yourself?!”

“How could _you_ live with yourself knowing your very own father is dying and not come back sooner? Force him to do this!?"

“He's a menace. An evil soul. It's all _lies,_ Paul! Don't you see!? He isn't who he says-”

“ _Enough_. I will not just sit here and listen to you speak such illwill towards your father.”

“He is an awful person!!” The car veers to the left, stops abruptly on the shoulder of the highway. Paul turns around. His face is red, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“You hold such little respect for your father, are completely unaware of the stress he endures on a daily basis. His work is _not easy._ So when his very own son refuses to come home when asked, he makes impulse decisions. And it _worked_.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I was coming home, Paul. I said it. My _father_ needs to learn to trust people.”

“Like I said, it worked.” The driver turns back around and resumes driving. “So, as I was saying. We have a full schedule planned.”

**Scene Four: Country House, 17:00**

It's evening.

What could his father possibly want to do now? They're riding along the winding gravel drive. It's beautiful, it's hell, it's his death sentence. _Lou I'm here._

“Your father is waiting for you in the library.”

“Yay…” He rests his chin on his hand as he lazily stares out the window. “Good. Great. Grand.”

“You're insufferable.” Paul groans from the front. “You've become more arrogant as you aged.”

“No. I've learned. Being knowledgeable isn't arrogance. I'm protecting myself.” The car stops. “There is a difference.”

“Go on. He's expecting you.”

“Where is my welcoming committee?” He picks up his bag.

“You wish.” Paul exits the vehicle and opens his door. “You may be a Prince by birth but you must earn our respect first.”

“Ooh you got me cowering in my boots.” He stands and stretches. “Whatever, thanks for the ride.” Harry saunters past him. “And I know you were working at Capital Records. Nice try.” He does not even bother waiting for a response, instead he makes his way inside the home (well, more like mansion) and heads towards the dreaded library.

He never liked coming here as a child. It always felt like a trap, like his father wanted to impress him with his wealth, prove he was a decent man, persuade him to stay. But he always said no, always refused, went back home to his mother and sister. He's walking the halls, ignoring the decor, disregarding it's elegance, and beauty. _It's all a front. It's fake. He's a monster._ It's all the same. Nothing will change.

He rounds the corner and the door is less than twenty feet away.

He should have said no. His life would be normal, less complicated. He could have moved to LA on his own, met Louis, be with him...not have to fear this meaningless existence he's found himself stuck in. There is so much more to live for. _Now I'll be stuck behind these walls forever._

“Is that my boy?” He hears his father's grating voice. He wants to run away so fast but Louis is keeping him grounded. “Harry?” He enters the study and finds his sickly parent on the sofa with a book on his lap. He's here. Holy shit he is actually here.

“Yah, it's me.” He answers solemnly.

“Oh good.” His father slowly turns around and takes in his appearance. “Not exactly the Prince I was hoping I'd see. But at least you're here. I've waited long enough. So let's get going.”

“A-alright?” He tentatively walks further into the room.

“Okay so first things first-”

“Where's Louis?” He asks. He drops his bag and stares his father down. “I know he's here.”

“There are more pressing matters-”

“ _No_!!” He yells. “No, he's here, _Dad_. Now release him!!” He wants to throw something sharp, something deadly at his father's stupid face.

“The funny thing is...he hasn't a clue why he's here.” The King is calm, speaking in hushed tones, using his _game face_ while Harry is breaking on the inside. Louis has no idea where he is or _why_. _I really fucked up_. “I am assuming your so called lover does not know who you are? Strange...you'd think that would be vital information to share, no?” _He never gave me the chance._

“It's better if he doesn't know at this point.” He admits. “He'll be better off.”

“Is that so? Are you being selfish again? You seem to always think of your needs before _anyone_ else's.”

“That's not true-”

“So, son. We are having a visitor tomorrow. You must look your _best_.”

“We're not changing the subject! Bring me to Louis!” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Ah yes, that mane has to go.”

“Fuck my hair!! Bring Louis to me!” He pleads as he reaches for the closest object and throws it across the room. The picture frame smacks against a lamp shade which sends both items crashing to the floor. He doesn't care. He has to release this pent up aggression, has to feel some sort of relief. But he doesn't. He won't...he never will until the love of his life is in his arms safe. _Will I ever be so lucky?_

“Good to know you have great aim.” The old man states nonchalantly. “As I was saying, we need to cut that hair.”

“You don't care. You only care about yourself, huh? Is that it? Your only concern is me coming home-”

“Not quite. See, the fate of an entire country is in my hands. I'd wish for you to understand the consequences if you decide to _not take_ the throne.”

“I get it, you need me but-”

“Then what do you _not_ understand? What is your thick little skull not comprehending? Why are you making this difficult!? You _chose_ this!!”

“ _No, Dad!_ You brought me here when I was fifteen, offered me a deal I could _never_ pass up, promised me the world, insisted I'd be making the right choice!”

“Exactly, son! You had a choice!”

“I was too young to know any better!! How could you do this to me?”

“I'm the one _dying_.”

“You should fucking produce your own heir, not force me into this shit. I don't even _want this_. I especially do not want that girl you're forcing upon me. I have _no desire_ to be with her.”

“Ah yes because you fancy the man I brought here against his will. Is that it?”

“What difference would that make?” He's staring his father down, glaring at him, speaking with his voice and eyes. “Who I marry? Maybe if I was given a choice I wouldn't feel like I am walking into my own personal hell?”

“The people.”

“What about them? They're not as ignorant as you perceive them to be. They are _welcoming._ Do you know them at all?”

“Better than you do.” His father's tone is flat, uncaring. He isn't interested in this at all.

“Do you know what? Fuck this. I'm finding Louis and we're leaving. I don't have to do this.” He grabs his satchel from the floor and heads towards the door. “Please move.” He politely asks the guards who are blocking his exit. “ _Please_ move.”

“Harry, you can't leave.”

“You _cannot_ hold me or Louis against our will. You do realize that.” He states.

“But I am.” His father is skimming the novel in his lap seemingly unfazed by their conversation. “So I suggest you sit down.”

“You're such a fuck.” He walks to the large soldier and pushes his way through. “Move damnit.” He inches his way around and finds himself back in the hallway.

“I really wouldn't do that.” He hears the King as he walks away. _Fuck you._ “Suit yourself!”

He ignores his old man and begins his search. He is a grown man, he doesn't have to listen to his father, he can _move on_. _But I have to find Louis first_.

He tightens his hold on his bag as he walks through the mansion. The country house is not too large however there are countless places Louis could be. _Where do I start?_

**Scene Five: ????**

His toes are turning blue.

The bandage around his calf is soaked in blood, his wrists are raw, his face is throbbing. He can barely make out any noise. It's dead. He's dead. He is losing his will to even breathe.

The walls are closing in on him, suffocating him, crushing his chest. He never felt this hopeless before. _Well maybe when I was with Stanley...but at least that was temporary._ He has no idea how long he's been lying here, lost his sense of time from the lack of natural light. Days could have past and he wouldn't know. So he's just been lying here, waiting for Ed or Caroline to rescue him _. They said they'd help me_ -

The door swings open making him pause.

“Get him.” The voice is different. It's not Ed or Ben. It's somebody new, a person far more intimidating, a man who could most likely tear him to pieces. His heart is racing as fear consumes him. He wasn't prepared for any interaction but he's hauled to his bare feet anyway against his silent wishes. He hangs his head and closes his eyes.

“Where to?”

“Follow me.” Hes dragged from his _prison cell_ and out into a dank hallway. It's an endless pit, it's his imminent demise...there is no escape. He's limping down the corridor, ignores the stones digging into his feet, pretends the pain in his leg isn't real, allows his mind to wander to a place far away, imagines what life would have been like back in New York. He releases a sob.

He cannot even fight against the fingers gripping his forearms. His body is barely responding, it's just going through the motions, following blindly, submitting his being. _It'll be over soon. It has to be._

He finds light just ahead seeping through the corner of a door, prays they're heading in that direction. _Maybe I'm being let go?_ They're nearly there, he can practically taste his freedom.

The black cloth is returned to his head but he doesn't care. He's going outside, getting closer to home. _Luke, George. I'm coming._ He begins smiling, can feel the wetness on his cheeks. His heart slows it's fast pace. He feels nearly human.

“Let's go.” They walk through the doorway. The ground went from cold, dirt covered cement to grass. It's soft on his toes, makes his smile brighten. And the sun...the sun is giving him life, warming his skin, drying off the dampness. He's never felt better.

They're moving quicker towards their destination. _Good, faster please!_ He concentrates on his footfalls and maintains steady breathing.

“In here.”

“Oh good you made it.” Another set of hands force him forward and to his knees. _What's going on?_ A heavily booted foot presses against his spine. “Get down.” The man orders. He's pushed flush against the floor, his hands are bent next to his head, legs sprawled out behind him. _What kind of rescue is this?_ His mind starts to wander again. _Okay, maybe they want to conceal my presence? Maybe I wasn't supposed to be here at all? Maybe they made a mistake? Maybe they're protecting me?_

He hears an assortment of noises, attentively listens to the men surrounding him to see where they're taking him, _when_ they plan on leaving _, where_ they're going. But nothing. It's all hushed banter and with their heavy accents, it's difficult to decipher anything.

There's a new noise, almost like a sizzle, like a very hot object was dunked into a bucket of water...what the _fuck_ are they doing? The pressure of the boot on his back is gone.

“Shit, watch that thing!” He hears above him. “There. Right there.” He instinctively lifts his head. “Get down you fool.” A foot pushes his head down into the dirt.

There is silence once again.

He isn't really paying much attention, doesn't expect what's to come because really he has no idea. He remembers getting shot, can resurrect the moment he was stabbed in the park... it's all a memory for him...something of the past, moments that shaped him.

But this?

No, this is something more. This is revenge. This is meant to prove a point. _Just like with Stanley._ This is meant to be a warning. A warning for who though? He was brought here for what? To be tortured? To be used as a pawn? _No, I'm leverage. That's what they told me._

Did their scheme work? Is this working?

His ears are betraying him. Those screams cannot be his, right? The panting and uncontrollable sobs are not escaping his mouth. It can't be true. This is all a nightmare. Soon he'll wake up and be in his bed.

But why isn't he waking up? Why is he still on the ground? Why is his back on fire? Why is the smell of burnt flesh filling his nose? What's going on?

It's silent once again.

He's breathing heavy, his limbs are numb, his head throbbing from the foot pressing him down. He may still be crying but he isn't quite sure. Everything is a blur.  Every second that passes brings forth more confusion.

He'll eventually sort it out, however right now he needs to lie here in his sorrow and pray for hope.

 

 

 


	4. Hopeful and Hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ensure you read the archive warnings and all tags!
> 
> Thank you

**Scene One: Country Estate, 19:00**

He's searched the grounds.

He looked inside.

It's been hours.

 _Where the fuck is he?_ He thinks as he walks the perimeter of the home for the fifth time. He thought he had the situation under control, confirmed he'd be the one calling the shots with his father, had the upper hand. But he was wrong. He was the idiot to believe he could one up his father, be ahead of the man's antics, _predict_ his moves.

Again, wrong.

“Fuck!!” He yells as he passes the garden. “I hate you.” He mumbles under his breath. He grips his hair and rounds the front of the property, past the armed guards, and group of men standing in front of a car. They’ve been there since he started his search and it seems they have not moved. “What the fuck are you looking at?” He snaps.

“Just admiring the view.” One says. He recognizes the man, is certain he saw him in passing but cannot recall when or where. He is a basic looking person with brown hair and brown eyes. _He’s a shithead_. Harry approaches them.

“Good to know you're getting paid to simply _stare_. Why don't you get a real job?” He eyes the three men. “You know, actually earn your pay?”

“We did our part.” The dark haired man speaks up once again. “We're awaiting our next orders, _Prince_.”

“Here's your next order.” Harry stands before him. “Go _fuck_ yourself.” He shoves the man into the vehicle with as much force as he can conjure and heads back in ignoring the other two men in general. He’s wasted enough time as it is…he _has_ to find Lou.

He pulls his phone out to update Stan.

[H]: Can't find him. I will though.

[H]: He’ll be okay. I promise.

[S]: Yes, I know. Cats and house are good.

[H]: Thank you.

[S]: Are you okay?

Harry is surprised by this…why would the man care?

[H]: I’ve been better.

[S]: Stay strong. You’ve got this.

He re-reads the text a few times still shocked this is coming from Louis’ ex. Stan was a complete douche and it makes him wonder what could have changed… _Do we love the same person?_ It won’t matter in the end though…he lost Lou…in fact he never had him to begin with. So if they end up being together-

“There you are!” He raises his eyebrows in confusion. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear the person approaching. “Harry!!” The figure comes into view and the red hair sparks his memory.

“Teddy!!” He embraces his old friend in a tight hug. “Holy shit you're still here?” He asks as he pulls away.

“Unfortunately...I am. Look we have to talk.” The man looks over his shoulder down the dark hallway. “Come. Let's go to the music room.” He trails after his friend.

“My father lost it-” He starts.

“Sh!!” Ed slams the doors closed. “You have to listen.”

“I am but look I have to find...this person-” He drops his bag.

“Louis!” Ed walks to the window and peers outside. Harry's heart jumps into his throat at the mention of his name.

“Oh my God yes! Where is he!? Ed you have to tell me.”

“I don't _know_ where they're keeping him! But I saw him earlier-”

“Where!?” He approaches his friend. “Teddy I-”

“Not good. _It wasn't good_.” His friend admits.

“What do you mean? What do you mean _not good_!?” He breaks out into a cold sweat. “Teddy, if he has a scratch on him-”

“He...He um…”

“Please tell me!” Harry begs. He runs a hand through his hair and grips tightly needing a distraction from the pain in his chest. “Is Louis okay?”

“Just...know that if you rebel or disobey your father…” Ed trails off leaving him with the worst thought imaginable. His voice is failing him. “Harry, _please_.” His friend grips his shoulders. “You must stop looking for him!” He begins to protest but Ed stops him. “ _Harry_. If you want Louis to live, you _have to_ follow your father. You cannot fuck up!!” He diverts his gaze unable to look into his friends eyes any longer. He cannot witness the truth residing there. Louis’ very life depends on his decisions...depends on his actions...his brashness...his _fight_ to remain normal. But he can't. He has no choice. He could never risk it. _Louis, I promise you'll be okay. I'll make sure you leave here alive._

“H-how...bad was it? Did you see?” He questions. He swipes at his eyes. “What-”

“I couldn't get to him fast enough.” His friend sighs. He steps away from Ed. “The deed was done by the time I got there...he was essentially unresponsive... possibly from the pain? I don't know. But he could barely stand.” The ache in his chest is increasing, his heart is barely beating, his brain is shutting down. _Louis._ He practically chokes on a sob.

“Where's my father?” Harry picks up his satchel.

“The last I heard he went back to the palace. He'll be back in the morning.”

“Okay.” He whispers. He heads towards the door and reaches for the doorknob.

“Harry. What are you going to do?” Ed questions. He remains stoic, keeps his emotions in check.

“I have a job to do.” He concludes and exits the room.

“Wait!” He turns around. “We'll get him out.”

“We?”

“Caroline and myself. We've got our sight on him.”

“Some job you're doing then.” He practically yells. “Maybe next time you'll reach him _before_ he gets tortured!!” He trudges towards the stairs.

“Don't you dare blame me! You're the one who couldn't keep your hands to yourself!” Ed counters. “You knew what was expected but surprise! You did your own thing! Gave us all grief because you couldn't control yourself!” He covers his ears and climbs the steps.

“No...no...no!” He says more to himself than to Ed.

“Why did you do it, huh?! You knew damn it!!”

“He wasn't _meant_ to like me back!!” He admits. “I thought he'd move on or just not give a flying fuck about me. But _he did_ and there was nothing I could do.”

“But you pursued! You approached him!”

“Yeah! It's called acting on impulse!! I couldn't…wait...how did you-”

“You were being watched Harry! Your every move...including Louis.” He freezes in place.  _I was right._

“From day one?”

“No, when you didn't come home on your twenty fifth birthday, your father wanted to watch...see what was keeping you.”

“Louis...but how did-”

“No more questions. Speak with your old man tomorrow. Get things going so we can get Louis out of here.”

“I will.” He heads down the corridor. “I'll...make sure to...you know follow through with the wedding and whatnot.”

“Okay.” They stop in front of a non-descript door. He stares at the wood, can foresee his future, can sense the misery. He almost slips and breaks down in front of Ed. “I'll keep watch on him.”

“Thanks.” He whispers.

“Be sure to meet your father in his study at ten tomorrow morning.”

“Yes. I'll set an alarm.”

“Alright. See you.” He keeps his eyes steady as he jiggles the handle and enters the room.

This was his childhood room. Well somewhat...he never came here much. His mother always was against it (now he understands why) but any kid would want to spend time with their _famous_ father, be catered to, be _spoiled_. Little did he know his dad would turn on him, make him an offer, be coaxed into this existence for good. He never thought anything of it really. He figured he had all the time in the world! But the ten years went by in a blur. And now he's here once again in this bedroom despising his teen self.

To clarify, his parents were never married. Both he and his sister were a mistake, a costly mistake that his mother (at that time) could not afford. She never wanted her children to be raised by Desmond, especially when he wanted to raise a future King or Queen and essentially destroy their childhood and future. She didn't think it was a healthy existence, a meaningful life so she kept them away. But Harry got curious anyway and snuck out to spend time with his old man. He wanted a relationship with the guy, assumed it would help him in the future. And well...that did not go according to plan.

He _really_ hates himself.

He drops the bag on the floor and goes to plug in his phone. It's been a long day yet he is not tired. He's too wound up, too focused on finding Louis, so unprepared for tomorrow that the last thing he wants to do is sleep. _I’ll be comfortable in bed while Louis is suffering someplace._

He reaches into his satchel and retrieves the glasses. He eyes them, imagines Louis wearing them, pictures the man in his pajamas while sipping from a hot mug of tea in their kitchen, dreams of staring into those beautiful irises and becoming so lost in their serenity he forgets time exists. It would be them forever lost in their bubble, lost in their love and affection where they can kiss often and hold one another. Just that one simple kiss had him locked in for life and there is nothing that can change his mind.

**Scene Two: ????**

He can barely walk.

With every step he takes he feels the pulling of his marred skin, feels the wound expanding and burning. He's leaning heavily against the man next to him as they continue back to wherever. It's no use, he has no energy left. He's finished. He wants to sleep. He wants to disappear.

They barely gave him a moment. His abductors did... _what did they do?_ He doesn't want to think too much about it right now. But they did something and forced him to move immediately, didn't give him a chance to recoup. _I guess they do plan on abusing me._ He thinks solemnly. This event served as a purpose to someone...maybe was part of that bargain Ed spoke of...but how will the person find out? What if they continue fucking up? Will he be subjected to _more_? He shutters at the thought because this was harsh and probably the worst physical pain he has ever endured.

They stop abruptly and the bag is ripped off his head.

“In here, kid.” He's shoved through the doorway and crumbles onto the familiar dirt floor as his legs give out. His mind is jumbled, his eyes are releasing tears, his lips are chewed. He cannot focus or begin to even _think_. It’s all too much…he cannot handle it. He curls his knees under him and leans heavily on his elbows and forearms for support. _How will I sleep?_

“Give me your wrists.”

“W-what?” He manages to speak around his tears.

“Put them behind your back.” The man pulls his arms from under him and grips them snuggly. _God please just leave me alone._ Thick metal circular objects are fixed around his wrists. “Sorry, kid. Bosses orders.” The man exits the cell and closes the door quietly behind him. _No you're not!!!_ He tests his arms and he has no range of motion. _Why? What was the point of this?_ _To not find comfort?_ He's already suffering...they've succeeded there, so why make it worse? Why does he have to suffer for someone else?

“F-fuck you.” He pants.

He shuffles towards the wall, props himself against the cement and rests his cheek on the cool surface. For once he is glad it’s damp…the heat from his back is scorching and raising his body temperature to an uncomfortable degree. It’s not an ideal position but this will have to do.

He closes his eyes and simply cries as the last fragments of his façade dwindle into nothing.

**Scene Three: Country Estate, 09:45**

He's in the study.

And his mind is stuck on Louis.

He tossed and turned all night, felt the ghost of those fingers on his cheeks, felt the pressure on his mouth from those lips he longs to feel once again. It makes him weak, makes him want the impossible, makes him believe there is a way he could win. _But that’s just selfish now…_

“Son.” He turns towards his father's voice. “So glad you had a change of heart.”

“You did not give me much of a choice.”

“Oh but I have, my dear boy. I have.” The man sits behind his rather large desk. “You stood in that very spot twelve years ago and agreed to my terms, said you'd be delighted to help your old man out, relieve me from my duties to live out my days in comfort. You'd rob me of that? For a _man?_ A man you are not certain even cares for you the way you care for him?”  He blanches.

“He _does_ -”

“No you are not even certain. You are assuming... you're convincing yourself, persuading those around you! But you have _no fucking idea_. You're wasting your time! Forgetting what really is important, putting these predestined plans on hold. Now is the time, _Prince_ Harry. Now is the time to fulfill your destiny. Do not let a measly, pathetic, _grating_ young man deter you.” He looks out the window. He aches...his father is right…he does not know how Louis feels. How could he assume? _No!! This is what he wants!! He manipulates!!_

“ _Dad_ -”

“No, son. You know it to be true. You can feel it deep down in your soul.” _Lies...lies!!_ But isn't this what he wanted? Didn't he want Louis to hate him? To move on? _But why does it hurt so much?_ His heart sinks in his chest. “That's right.” He clenches his hands into fists. _That's okay. He can hate me...but I still care for him...love him. It will never change._

“What if he did love me?” He questions.

“Wouldn't that be a pity?” His father begins to cough. It's the same...it's disgusting.

“No it wouldn't.”

“Son, stop with these delusions. We have work to do.” He eyes his father, wishes he could smack his head against the desk and watch him fall unconscious. _What I'd give_. He takes a deep breath.

“What...are we doing first then?”

“The hair must go.” His father starts. “Your future wife is arriving this evening. She must be presented with a proper Prince.” He nearly chokes at the mention of her. _That's not going any place._ “Yes, so do that now.” His father puts his head down and begins reading a stack of documents on his desk. Harry cannot move. “Be off then.” The man waves him off like he is some servant, dismissing his very own son. _You're a fuck._ He exits the room.

It's not even been a full day and his father already got to him. It's so easy for the king to manipulate, to persuade people...and he was trapped instantly. He must remain focused, be true to his heart and instincts. He'll find the way eventually. There's a tap on his shoulder.

“This way.” It's a guard.

“Where-”

“You are to go to your room.” The brute turns him towards a set of stairs.

“Oh-” He's guided, practically pushed to move faster. “Excuse me.” He halts in his footsteps. “ _Excuse me_ , officer. I would like a little respect from-” He's shoved forward and loses his footing.

“Shut up.” His mouth gapes open. “And move. We are on a tight schedule _._ ”

“Uh...” He quickly recovers and makes his way up. _Holy fuck? What's wrong with these people? Don't they know who I am?_ Did his father brainwash the entire staff?! Harry is brought back to his room and finds a blonde woman in the corner.

“Oh good. You arrived. I've set everything up in the bathroom. So let's be on with it then.” The guard closes the door behind him and locks it. _Play time is over I suppose._ He follows the woman. “Sit right here.” _Friend or Enemy? Who can I trust?_  He does as instructed and faces the mirror. “Your father requested a more formal look.” He simply shrugs because...who knows. His hair hasn't been short since he was twenty one.

“I guess...do what he envisioned.”

“Yes I plan on it.” The lady dampens his curls with a spray bottle. “It really is a shame.” She begins cutting it away. “Such a lovely head of hair.” He diverts his eyes. _Lou is more important._ He concludes. The hairdresser continues to cut and he just doesn't care. His father's words affected him more than it should have and he cannot get that one possible little detail out of his mind. _Does Louis love me?_ He didn't want him to...didn't want to give false hope but he prays for it now...wants it more than anything. _Why though? Why want something forbidden? Am I truly selfish?_ How would it work? Why does the thought of Stan winning Louis again make him sick? He can _never_ be with him! It's not written in his stars! He's meant to be with...some random person.

“Okay finished.” He doesn't look. It's not important. “Let me know what you think.”

“Whatever I'm sure it's fine.” He abruptly stands and walks back to the bedroom.

“Let me show you your closet at least.” He sighs as the woman directs him. “Everything here was handpicked by me and your father.”

“Superb.” He eyes the selection.

“It was expensive. Don't be careless.” The girl snaps. His eyes widen in shock.

“I...I uh-” _Everyone is so inviting..._

“Just because you were born a prince, doesn't mean you can undermine us. You will earn our respect...work _hard_ for it, be challenged.” He flattens against the wall. “This is not a game!” _Enemy._

“I know.” He says.

“Do you? Do you really know?” She folds her arms across her chest. “One wrong move...one lock of hair out of place, and we'll _know_ if you're lying.” The hairdresser eyes him. “You have a lot of work ahead of you. Best to remember that.” She practically stomps out of the room.

He remains in place absorbing that little bit of information. He wasn't prepared for the lecture and it hurts actually. _I'll have to gain their trust...be convincing...what if they never respect me though? What then?_ How can he be convincing when he has no idea what they expect from him!?

He approaches the line of suits and stares.

This will be his existence: a constant battle for trust. His disguise will extend past his relationship with that girl... it'll seep into his every move, every decision...how he fucking eats his breakfast. He'll be constantly ridiculed and judged until the people accept him for who he is and decide if he is worthy enough.

That makes it _worse_.

They can choose.

Make him or break him.

He selects a basic black pinstripe suit and inspects the row of shirts. It's all muted colors, nothing vibrant and exciting, devoid of anything that represents him. _Another slap in the face I suppose_. His father purposely did this...or it's possible the man wants to change him...make him blend in. Be a god damn _Prince_. _Be what the people want_. Maybe the king is helping him in a subtle way...

 _It's nice material at least_.

But he doesn't give a shit!! The suit could be made from the rarest material and it just wouldn't make a difference. Louis is trapped somewhere and he cannot get to him, find him, hold him, protect him! The man he so desperately loves is being held against his will as leverage...to keep Harry in check, to force him to stay. Even if he wanted to escape, he couldn't. His father made it virtually impossible. _I have to succeed_ _and be miserable to ensure Louis’ safety_. And that’s it!

He begins to change, methodically buttons the crisp tailored shirt, adjusts his tie, fixes his hair, ties his shoes. It's all pretend.

He finds the closest mirror to inspect the damage and it's worse than he expected. Its not him staring back at him but a stranger.

A _Prince_.

**Scene Four: ????**

_He's lying in a field._

_A lavender field._

_It's warm, the sun is kissing his cheeks, the sky is perfectly blue, the air is filled with the sweet scents of the flowers blooming around him. And it's heaven. He feels as light as a feather, his worries are non-existent, he's free. He closes his eyes, relaxes deeper into the ground, settles his thoughts and continues to soak in the heat._

_There's a light brush on his arm, a reassuring touch, a promise. He leans into it savoring in the sensations that simple movement gives him. His mind is fixated on the feeling, forcing him to forget the smells consuming his nose. He doesn't mind...those fingertips do wonders, overcome the impossible, make him forget life for a while._

_It's a beautiful day._

_“Don't stop.” He whispers. “Don't ever let go.” The hand encircles his wrist and squeezes. “Is that a promise?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“When I open my eyes will I see your face?”_

_“I hope so.”_

_“You hope? You cannot give me a yes or no?”_

_“I cannot make promises I cannot keep. You know that.”_

_“You already have. You said you wouldn't go anywhere.” He hates it. “Why lie?”_

_“I never meant to.”_

_“You hurt me.”_

_“I had no choice.”_

_“Everyone has a choice.”_

_“Not me.”_

_“No, we all have a choice!”_

_“I chose to be with you.”_

_“Why!?” Tears collect on his bottom lashes. “Why me?”_

_“Because you're special.” The fingers are tickling him, bringing forth gooseflesh. It's hypnotizing...it's a dream…_

_“I'm just an average person.”_

_“You're wrong. You're you. That's what makes you unique.”_

_“We're all our own individual person.”_

_“No!! Damn it no.” The fingers disappear. The sun sets. The sky goes dark._

Louis opens his eyes and finds himself back in his prison.

_At least the tears were real._

**Scene Five:** **Country Estate, 17:30**

She is meant to arrive any minute.

He was forced to sit in the garden and wait for her for whatever reason. It was his father's idea and it's stupid. This entire meeting is _stupid_. He doesn't know what to say, has no idea how to start a proper conversation with someone, how to _flirt_ when he will have little to no interest in the woman. She could be pretty, sure, but to be physically attracted to her is a whole other story. He's never been with a woman, knew immediately from day one what his preference was, did not find it necessary to experiment, so really this is like being a teenager all over again, figuring himself out, being inexperienced.

_This is going to be atrocious._

He puts his head in his hands and takes a deep breath. He has to figure it out, make it work...convince the girl and his father and every God damn person working for his _highness_ that it's sincere. _Maybe if I pretend she's Louis?_ _There would be a few differences but hey! I can improvise._

“Son.” His heart begins to pump in his chest. “Your fiancee has arrived.” He runs a hand through his hair, plasters on his pathetic grin and turns around. “Prince, I'd like for you to meet Lady Camille.” She's taller than expected, _pretty-ish_ , thin...tall... _Too tall._ He stands instantly and extends his hand. “Son, I do not believe a handshake is a proper way to greet your future wife.” He reaches for the woman's dainty...not so dainty hand and grips tightly.

“Hello.” He greets. _I hate you already._ “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.” _I sound like I'm trying too hard._

“The pleasure is all mine.” Her hair is stringy, dry looking, died an unnatural color. _Lou has perfect hair...so soft to the touch._ She bows slightly and smirks. _It's an ugly smirk._ He wants to mentally slap himself. He isn't even trying, he's simply pointing out her flaws to make himself feel better when in reality he's stuck with this person ...until he dies. _Or her...but what the fuck am I thinking!?_

“Why don't we go for a walk?” He suggests because his father is shooting daggers at him.

“That sounds lovely.” Camille, or whatever her name is, follows Harry down into the maze-like garden. It's not really a maze, the hedges are cut short, however it resembles one with it's twists and turns. _Too bad I can't leave her out here-_ He pinches his thigh.

“So...um, where are you from?” He begins with.

“Edinburgh actually.”

“Isn't it cold year round?”

“Well, compared to sunny California yes I guess it would be.”

“Y-yeah... probably.” He searches the grounds for an escape. Her arm is interlocked with his and they could almost resemble a couple.

“Is that why you moved?” She keeps twirling her dingey hair around her spindly finger. He wants to chop it off.

“I like the beach.” _So does Louis. He loves the beach. But does he love me?_ “Calms my nerves.”

“I see. Your father told me you're an artist and like to play an instrument. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, I was in a band. I write too.”

“Impressive. What genre of music?”

“Mainly Rock. But I composed a ballad or two.” _Yeah for Lou._

“Maybe you can write one for me?” This girl has balls. He practically chokes on his tongue.

“Y-yeah?” He stutters. “I mean yes absolutely. Sure.” They continue to walk in silence. He's lost all interest and really wants to say _goodnight_ and _good-bye_ for good.

“Are you going to ask about my hobbies?”

“Okay, shoot.” He bites his tongue. “I meant uh…”

“I understand. I model occasionally.” _Hopefully winter coats with hoods._ Ah!! He wants to run for the hills.

“T-thats great!” He manages.

“Yes. It's a good way to pass the time.” They continue on their way and it's painful... it's awkward...he wants to scream. “Are you alright? You're very pale.”

“Am I? Guess I'm losing my sun-kissed tan.” _You make me sick because I can't do this._

“I see. Well, maybe tomorrow we can spend the day outside.”

“O-okay.” He drops his arm in hopes of her removing her hand... but she only grips harder.

“We can go for a picnic. I have the perfect spot.” She smiles.

“Alright. I can do that.”

“Good!” She reaches for his hand and squeezes. “It's a lovely evening.”

“Uh…” He eyes her, watches that finger wrap around her hair, tries to look past the caked on make up and sweet smelling perfume. _Maybe this could work_.

They circle around the garden a half dozen times. He believes it to be a successful first meeting, not as awkward as he feared. It has potential. They could be friends. _Well, she'll be more than a friend...but at least we are not repulsed by one another._

They're heading back towards the main house.

“Guess we should say our goodbyes then.” Camille says as they climb the steps.

“Oh...it's...that time already?” Harry surprisingly lost track.

“Yes, my car is most likely waiting for me out front.” She stands on the step above him and begins to shift her weight. He's at a loss- “Walk me?” She asks.

“Oh...yes of course.” He stumbles. “Ladies first.”

“...I went to University for design but found it wasn't my calling. I preferred wearing the clothing rather than create it. I lacked the artistic ability and vision.” She pauses a moment. “I guess I was not creative enough.” She shrugs.

“Uh...well, we...yeah.” _I don't care!!!_

“What did you do for schooling?”

“Went to UCLA and became a police officer.” He states. “Nothing exciting.”

“An officer? Why choose such a career?”

“Why did you decide to model?” He quips. She seems taken aback by his abruptness but fuck that. She better not think twice about mocking his job. _Louis’ job too._

“Well-”

“I enjoyed what I did. I helped people. I made a difference, protected the city.”

“I just always thought-”

“Thought what? That law enforcement is _below_ us? Not as glamorous as let's say acting, or singing? Or _modeling_?” He has to stop...He has to think of Lou _._ She seems unfazed by his outburst.

“I guess. But you're a Prince. That's quite a prestigious career.” _Life altering...a God damn headache._

“If you say so.” They reach the car.

“I had a wonderful time.” She clasps her hands in front of her and now he notices the crisp lines of her cream colored blouse and black pleeded skirt. _Whatever_.

“Me too.” _Not._

“So tomorrow, we'll meet for a picnic.”

“I was never one to cook-” Lies.

“I'll pack us something. Just bring the blanket.” She smiles a crooked grin. “Bye.” She waves and disappears into the Mercedes Benz.

He gawks at the vehicle, practically vomits all over his suit, is still attempting to wrap his head around the events of the afternoon. _It sucked!!! I'm awful_. But it isn't his fault. His father chose her for a reason...and now he's stuck dealing with it.

**Scene Six: ????**

“He wasn't convincing enough.”

Louis hears the distant voice...feels the hatred and distaste from where he's sitting. He wonders what the man is talking about. Or better yet, _who_ is he talking about.

“He was foolish, couldn't even hold a proper conversation. It was like watching one of those awkward dating shows except worse.”

“Come on he wasn't that bad. You're exaggerating.”

“No! I'm not. Oh he's in here.” Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. _Me!?_ The rusty door swings open and he blinks away the dust. He's still against the wall resting heavily on the cement. “Well look at what we have here.” _It's Benjamin_. He cowers away from the man like a bitch. He doesn't even care anymore how pathetic he looks. He's in pain. There is nothing that will make it go away.

“Where are we taking him?” The blonde haired man asks. A bag is quickly thrown over his head.

“Can't say. Just follow me.”

_Because he wasn't convincing enough, will I be the one paying the price?_

They're back in the hallway walking in a completely different direction. It's like they do it purposely to confuse him if he ever escaped, to ensure he's lost and _trapped_ for good. He limps along, ignores his large burn, distracts himself by counting his footsteps. It's a game to him...how many steps can he take before his legs give out? He believes to be at sixty five which is pretty decent if he's honest.

“The girl kept reaching for his hand and batting her eyes. He had no clue!”

“Eh, he's trying. I think you are all being too hard on him.” _Who damn it!? Or wait...that was eighty...eight!_

“Anyway the boss wanted to see our little friend here.” There's a tug on his arm. _Oh no_.

They begin climbing a staircase and nope this isn't working!! His bad leg cannot take the pressure!

“W-wait!” He begs. “Please slow down.” His voice is barely audible.

“The boss must _never_ wait.” Ben grips him tighter. “Move!!” His body will not cooperate! It's useless. He's tripping over his own feet, pretending his back isn't bleeding.

They reach a landing and the air instantly changes. It's clean smelling, fresh, filled with _life_. He wonders how far down they are... _I was shoved into the corner to rot_. His feet are slapping against the wood flooring and the uneven cadence is obvious. _I'm a mess._

“Oh! Our guest is here!” He immediately pulls back having no desire to speak to this man. “Turn him around.” He begins tearing up.

“Move your _god damn feet.”_ Ben says in his ear. The hands embracing his bicep are rigid, squeezing him, warning him…terrifying him! He’s forced to move anyway.

“Look at that! Beautiful work, really.” _Does this man get off on seeing me suffer?! How is this beautiful?!_ He hangs his head low in defeat. “I’ll contact you if anything arises.”

“Yes, sir.”  And he’s forced from the room once again. “Down you go.”

_Down I go._

He releases an unexpected sob and follows as best he can.

 


	5. Bells Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may proceed.

**Scene One: ????**

They remove the bindings from his hands.

 _Freedom_. He thinks too soon as his abductors grip his wrists and forearms. They drag him towards...something...towards the unknown once again. _That was short lived._

“Over there.” He hears.

“How many?”

“I was told ten but we can have fun.” _Fun? Ten what?_

“Oh sure.” He's hoisted up onto a flat, unforgiving, _frigid_ surface. He feels it immediately through his thinning denim as he's lowered down against his will. He tries to fight it but he loses too easily against their strength.

The moment his back grazes the metal he cries out in agony. His scorched skin is screaming at him, making tears flood his eyes, and toes curl. He prays for the numbness...hopes his savior's will arrive soon, wishes he could be left alone. He struggles against the arms holding him down, fights against them with his remaining strength.

“N-no...t-too soon!!” He flails his arms out in protest.

“Shut him up!! And why are his hands free!?” They're on him, restraining him once again. He bucks his hips up, kicks out his legs, whips his head back and forth. He sucks in gulps of air and feels the cloth pressing against his cheeks and seep into the wetness cascading down his cheeks.

He's immobilized.

“No!! Let me go please!!” He becomes hysterical and chokes on the sobs escaping his throat, allows the tears to drop in buckets from his eyes. _He wasn't convincing enough._ He repeats in his head. _He wasn't convincing enough!!!_

He's fighting.

He's hurting.

He's losing.

“P-please.” His voice is foreign to his ears, trembling, laced with fear, filled with anguish. “I beg of you.” He sobs out. He lifts his hips to relieve the ache in his back. “Show m-mercy. I didn't do anything!!”  The men are silent. _Too silent_. In fact they haven't said a word since he started freaking out. _Did they leave?_ He's beginning to calm down as a wave of hope consumes him. He blinks his eyes to clear them of the wetness sticking to his lashes and intently listens past his hiccups.

It's silent... eerily silent...cold. he's cold. He gently rests against the surface, slowly presses his injury to the metal. He's weak...too weak to keep himself suspended. _This isn't too bad...I guess._ He remains still for a moment listening for any sign of life. But there's nothing... he falls silent and sniffles his nose.

There's a whistle. _Huh?_

A high pitched, whiny whistle.

_What's that?_

But it's too late.

It cracked through the air, traveled at an undetermined speed, lashed at his torso, split his skin upon contact, cut him from his rib cage to his lower abdomen. It was a direct hit, deliberate, pointless. _But I didn't do anything_.

His hips thrust forward, hands strain against the bindings, back aches as he contorts his torso as a reaction. He gasps, allows that to settle, awaits the crippling sensations to overtake him. But it's all too fast.

Lash after lash.

It's coming in quick succession and it's difficult to keep up.

He can only comprehend the whistle as the whip flows through the air, the snapping noise it makes as it connects with his flesh, the sting it leaves in its wake.

He lost count at eight, forgets what is actually happening to him as he practically melds into the table. The blood is trickling, pooling around his limp body, seeping into his already grimey jeans that he wishes to change out of. This will no doubt hurt him...cripple him...leave him half dead. He's sure of it.

One final resounding whistle…he prays.

This one was different. It struck him further up his chest and grazed his neck as well as his cheek. His face ignites, his neck throbs, his cries are now audible to his ears.

The room is suddenly filled with a multitude of noises.

His breathing.

His shouts.

His heart.

**Scene Two: Country Estate, 13:00**

“Take this.”

Harry looks down at the object being shoved into his hand. It's a box, a small black crushed velvet box, it's contents obvious.

“Propose properly. Move this along.” His father rushes out. “You're dragging your feet and _do not_ deny it, boy.” The man is ticked.

“What? I've spent the past _week_ with this woman. How am I supposed to propose to her when I _do not know_ her!?” He wants to protest. “Don't you understand?” His father's face is blank. It's like he is speaking to a bust or a goddamn mop. “It's not meant to be like this!”

“Son, I do not give a shit what it is meant to be. You are proposing to Camille today. I do not care how you feel. End of story.  Now be on your way, the car is waiting for you.” The King turns his back to him and heads down the corridor to his dreaded office dismissing him once again.

He sticks his tongue out like a child and stomps his way towards the front door. He's gripping the box in his left hand, running the other through his hair feeling the tension in his shoulders. He's miserable. He hasn't found Lou, he's wasting time, he's closer to losing the battle with each passing hour. It's no use.

He walks out the front door into the afternoon sun and spots the Rolls-Royce idling by the curb. _Terrible._ He is about to descend the steps when he hears his name.

“Over here!!” He looks to the side of the house and finds a flurry of red hair. “Quick! Before Paul comes out.” He makes his way to Ed.

“What happened?” After their last meeting, Harry was certain of one fact: he must obey... yet here he is fighting against it, being a selfish prick. But he cannot lose all hope yet. “Did you manage-” But Ed is shaking his head, his facial expression grave, mouth downturned. “ _What,_ Teddy? Why that face?” He grips the man's shoulders. “W-what did you see?” His eyes are instantly filled to the brim with tears.

“You need to propose. Just do it, squash down your pride and _fucking_ do it.” He stares into those blue eyes. “You must.”

“What happened?”

“If I tell you, you'll continue to rebel against your old man...so _no_.”

“What!?” He wants to shake his friend until he spills his guts or knocks some sense into him.

“You cannot fuck around anymore! I'm serious.”

“Why didn't you save him if it was so bad!? Why can't you take him!”

“ _Not yet_!! If I do, they'll know and it would be curtains for you. So I beg of you. Just follow your father. Be numb. It's your fate.” He pulls away from his _so called_ friend.

“I thought you were helping me.”

“I am! I'm saving your life!”

“ _No_! That man is my life. So if you're looking out for me, _help him_!” He turns around and heads towards the car. He fervently rubs his eyes, straightens his suit, runs a hand methodically through his hair, and shakes off the terror gripping him. He must become _numb_ , unfeeling, a guise. _I can do it. I can act. I'll pretend._

He finds Paul by the vehicle waiting impatiently with his arms crossed over his chest. _I have to earn their respect._

“Good afternoon.” He says in greeting. Paul rolls his eyes and opens the suicide door. “How are you?” He tries again.

“Please quit stalling and get in the car.” The man grunts.

“Absolutely.” Harry smiles and sits down. He has to bite his tongue, keep the anger at bay, remember the staff has years worth of his father's manipulation shoved down their throats. _I'll change everything_. _I'll make them trust me_. Of course he can, he's got this.

“Lady Camille is meeting you at the park.”

“Sure. I'm looking forward to it.” He toys with the box in his hands. “I'm proposing today.”

“Are you technically engaged already?” Paul says from the front seat.

“Yes! But...the _King_ requested a more formal proposal.” He adds a little more enthusiasm into his voice. _Convince. I need to convince._ “I'm... I am ready.”

“Are you now? Just a week ago you were protesting your father's every move and plan.”

“Yes, but being around him and seeing how ill he's become, I believe its time... you know...for um-” He's searching for the words...cannot find the right phrase to avoid sounding too anxious but not overly eager to take his father's place because really he doesn't want it...not in the least. It's a fine line. “Me becoming-”

“King. Yes it's quite the shoes to fill.” Paul picks up speed down the freeway. “Use your best judgement.” Harry catches the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror and he cannot help but think he's finally being given advice. Well, it's not the _most_ useful, however, it's better than nothing he supposes. _Better than the attitude._

“Yes that's the best way to look at any situation.”

“Just remember, not every issue you come across will be black and white.” He nods in agreement, avoids the penetrating stare, relaxes into the seat, clenches his hands. _Gray areas. I'm in a gray area._

Hes gaping out the window watching the scenery change.

Where there were once open fields and rolling hills, there are now thick woods surrounding the vehicle masking the crystal blue sky and sun. The narrow two lane highway is leading them into town, closer to the city, closer to his prison. He begins feeling the suffocation...finding it difficult to breathe.

He thinks of Louis, thinks of those blue eyes, thinks of their now deteriorating future, finds dreams of them spending their days together dissipating into nothingness. How could he think this though? _But does he love me?_ Maybe the uncertainty is driving him to these conclusions because what if Louis doesn't love him? Would he break apart? Would it make this entire ordeal manageable? Easier to handle knowing he never stood a chance with the man? _If I were not in love with Louis, I'd be married already_... _Louis would be free... he'd be...where would he be?_

He can't think like this right now. He has to focus, ensure Louis is set free, sent back home to his simple life.

“Prince, we're here.” He looks up and sure enough...they're in a park. _Why here?_ “Lady Camille will be here shortly.” He exits the vehicle without Paul's assistance. He pockets the ring and finds a cement bench by a small lake. _I wouldn't have done it like this_. He starts. _I'd prefer a beach._ He figures being by the waters edge would suffice but it's not the same. And he's in a stuffy, cream colored suit, not board shorts and a t-shirt. _I'd prefer sand in my hair then tears in my eyes._

“Hello.” He hears the soft voice and looks up to find his future wife standing before him. She looks...basic. her formal pencil skirt and blouse do nothing for him but he puts on his well practiced smile and stands to greet her. Normally, he'd give a quick peck on the cheek but... _I wasn't convincing enough_. So he gently takes her hands and kisses her on the lips. It's sour. It's plastic. It's _fake_. And it's been long enough. He withdraws praying that was satisfactory and leads her to the bench he was occupying.

“How are you?” He asks with as much sincerity he can conjure. He keeps her hand in between his.

“Doing well. I hope your father is not too angry.”

“Why would he be?” He looks at her then and takes in the make up masking her cheeks and eyes.

“You covered the entire kitchen with flour, Prince.” She begins to chuckle. “I'm surprised we had enough left for the cake.” He grins at the memory because really...he knows how to bake he just pretended to act like a nuisance in the kitchen.

“Oh yes! Well...we have a cleaning staff so... I'm sure they're non too pleased with me.” He instinctively grips her hand tighter. _Reassure...prove yourself. People are watching._ Well, duh that would explain the setting. _Good so the kiss was perfect._ Their eyes never waver, they're both stuck in a trance although Harry is pretending. _I've got her._

“Sure.” She looks away towards the lake. “So was this your idea?” He nearly faulters.

“Yes it was. Such a lovely place.” _Good one._

“Similar to the beach?” She turns towards him again.

“Y-yes.” _Damn she's good._ “As close as we can get.”

“Maybe we can go to a real beach one day. I'd like to experience the waves crashing and the sand between my toes.”

“It gets very itchy.” He scrunches his nose in mock disgust because honestly? He loves it. “You'll see.” _The beach is for Lou and I. There's no room for a third_.

“I look forward to it.” She smiles.

They continue their discussion and manage to spend nearly an hour on that bench. But it didn't feel it...it felt pleasant. He is having _a good time_. Does that mean they are compatible? Will this be okay? How will he manage in the next few years? Can he keep the facade intact?

_Is Camille not so bad?_

He feels the box press into his thigh reminding him of the task he must fulfill. His father will no doubt use this against him (and Louis... _Oh good Lou_ ) so he thinks now is a good time. Right? He pulls his hands away in anticipation of them sweating, fixes his hair, distracts the woman by adjusting his tie.

“So.” He says to change the topic. He feels a nervous smile play on his lips.

“So…” Her hands are neatly folded in her lap.

“There's something I have to ask.” He starts. Camille should expect this so why does she have this surprised facial expression all of a sudden? _Oh Jesus Christ._ “So yes...um...I know you have a slight understanding...well what I meant…” He's tongue-tied! _Where the hell did this come from!?_ “Um...so…” How would he propose to Lou? He fantasizes they're on that beach...he and Lou... watching the sunset, witnessing the sky turning different hue's of red and orange. It's a beautiful setting...the air is crisp, the sweet smells emanating from the boardwalk fill their noses, the lingering voices of the patrons surround them. He'd stare into those irises for eternity, be lost in their depths, forget the troubles of life, the pressures, the responsibilities.

It's only them.

He takes the woman's hands, attempts to convince himself this is Louis, and looks longingly at her.

“Camille.” He practically chokes. The ring box is digging into his leg. _Louis._ “I thought this moment would never come.” _Holy fuck did I think that._ “But you made it...more rewarding? I um…” _What would I say to you?_ “I cannot imagine spending my days with anyone else, to face life's challenges with, to depend on. You make it easy.” _Easy to what? What am I trying to say?_ “You make it easy to love.” _Oh that's where this was going._ “I knew the moment I looked into your eyes, the second I touched your hand, grazed your lips, felt the immediate connection when we spoke.” _Louis you have no idea._ “It was a welcoming sensation, a feeling I thought I would fear. But-” _Am I crying?_ “With you, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's all right here...and that's you.” He hasn't moved his eyes from Camille's face, sort of lost focus as he spoke imagining Louis standing before him with those huge blue irises and crooked smirk. _That's who should be here_. He digs through his pocket blindly, pulls the box free, and presents the ring to his future... _wife_ **.** “C-Camille...will you marry me?” He didn't even glance at the ring.

**Scene Three: ????**

He jerks awake from his nightmare.

He isn't quite sure what's worse, being awake or sucked into a dream where the ache is just as crippling. He doesn't recall what it was even about...but he'll never forget that face and those eyes. He knew they would haunt him forever, leave him empty, give him false hope. It's the worst sort of pain to suffer through, to fight against when he thought they had something...tangible, something he could rely on.

He's losing his will. He's becoming numb to everything surrounding him including his wounds. He doesn't care anymore. He'll simply sit in this prison until death consumes him. He practically wishes for it.

_He'll wait forever... forever. I guess forever was temporary._

His face is planted into the cement, the cooling stone keeping his temperature at bay. He may have a fever, his injuries may possibly be infected, but it doesn't matter anymore. His well-being is obviously taking a backseat, so why should he waste his energy caring.

The shuffling in the hallway makes his nerves spike. _God please no._ He silently prays to the otherworldy being he never believed in, never requested assistance from. _Let me die in peace_.

“Quick!! Open it!!” He sinks deeper into himself, dips his head, keeps his now free hands on his knees. “There!!” The door flings open and he practically doubles over. _I can't take anymore_. _Please!!!_

“Louis!!” The voice is laced with sadness, concern, pity. _I hated pity._ “Oh my goodness Ed!!” There are hands grazing his shoulder, cheek, hair. He simply scrunches his eyes closed and turns away. “Sweetie. Are you alright?” _Stupid question._

“Caroline, really?” Ed responds. “We can't stay here long. They'll move him if they know we've been here!”

“What happened to him?” _I don't know either actually_.

“Anything to prove a point!” Ed is in his field of vision but Louis barely acknowledges him. “I know. I know Louis. I made that promise.” The man looks away. “This wasn't supposed to happen. Things were meant to be smooth...not as... difficult. I'm sorry.” _I'm tired of the empty apologies._

“These slash wounds...I need to treat them! Please convince those barbarian's to bring him to the infirmary!”

“I'll try. I don't-”

“They want to take him to...that _event_. He cannot go anywhere like this!” _Where am I going?_ “Supposedly that's what they need him for then it's done. We can take him then!!”

“I'll try.” The hands are gone. He's left with burning sensations all over his body. “Okay we have to go.”

“What's on his back…? Oh my goodness!!” The small woman practically yells. He couldn't even care.

“Shhh!!!”

“B-but that's-”

“Yes...now please stop.” _Must be gruesome._

“This poor boy.”

“I…” He chokes.

“What dear? What's wrong?” Those hands are back on his shoulder.

“I...I am not a b-boy.” He closes his eyes at the sound of his grating voice. He can barely speak.

“Yes, I'm sorry.” She says. He slowly lifts his head to find her eyes. _How bad is it?_ She gives a slight gasp. “He's too pale. He needs fluids.”

“They give him water periodically.” Ed confesses. “Obviously it's not enough.”

“He's skin and bones.” _And dirty._

“Caroline we have to go!!” Ed takes hold of the small woman and drags her up and away.

“Don't worry, sweetie. We'll be back!” Louis watches them slip easily from his cell and soon he's alone.

He rests his cheek against the wall right where he left off pretending nothing happened.

 

 **Scene Four: Country Estate,** **11:30**

It seems his father had it planned.

Down to the damn flowers.

He's standing before a mirror, inspecting the simple navy blue suit and white rose pinned carefully to his lapel. His cufflinks pathetically match as well. _C and H_. He wants to throw them into a fire, watch them melt down into a pile of metal, witness them lose their luster, see their initials turn to ash. _My heart is barren._

He has black circles ringing his eyes. He cannot sleep. Cannot really eat. Cannot function properly. He knows Louis is here, his subconscious reminds him this is not what it seems. He's hurting. Louis is hurting. Their relationship...what relationship? It's also hurting... it's gone…?

How can he move on?

“Prince.” He turns slightly towards the blonde woman. He never caught her name. “Are you ready?” _NO!_

“Ready as I'll ever be.” He lies through his teeth. “Let's go.” He smiles brightly.

“You look exhausted.”

“Ah... wedding day jitters I suppose.” He plays it off.

“Oh obviously. You'll be great.” They stop before the door and the woman straightens out his jacket. “Perfect. You look perfect.” She grins in satisfaction. She looks into his eyes startling him slightly. “He'll be there.” She whispers. “Whatever you do...do not say _no_.” She turns abruptly and leaves the room before he can fully comprehend.

 

**Scene Five: ????**

He was in a deep fever induced sleep when he's hauled to his feet.

He's groggy, weak, and full of nothing. He's a shell. So easily broken…so easily discarded with the smallest crack, dragged through sand. _I need to shave._ He thinks randomly.

“Take him this way.” He isn't walking. His feet are suspended, his head lolling to the side, eyes closed. He believes they put a bag over his head but whatever at this point. _Or are my eyes closed?_

“Where are we taking him?”

“Caroline.” He feels a sort of thrill pulse his heart at the mention of her name. But lies. It's lies. They meander through a series of corridors, reach a heavy door, head outside into the warmth and continue on. He's weightless, possibly a ghost, possibly half dead (or dead already), heading towards... the infirmary. Maybe it's heaven. Maybe he'll feel relief.

He tries to lift his hand to scratch an incessant itch on his face but that small movement kills, disrupts his reverie of numbness, awakens the ache. He wants to cry out, release the pent up aggression he's kept buried.

A single tear.

That's all.

“That way.” They're back inside.

“What do we have here?” It's Caroline playing dumb. “Oh no! What happened!?” _Good job._ He's practically dropped onto a table on his side, deposited like a piece of trash. Her hands are on him, squeezing her reassurance. “Let me get to work. You fools!!” She scolds.

“Bosses orders. We need him in an hour so make it quick.”

“That's pathetic. You're pathetic! He's a human!” He hears a door slam shut. “Louis.” She's in his ear. “I'll help you.” He releases another tear. “It'll be okay.”

“W-will it?” He whispers to the wall.

“Yes. I'll take care of you.”

“What if...what if I don't w-want you to?” He swallows. “What if I can't live with this?” He closes his eyes. “Who will want me now?” He chokes. He never thought too much of his appearance, found himself to be rather plain, lacking, _ugly_. But now? Now it's worse. Now he'll be less appealing than he was before.

“Stop!” Something wet is pressing into his back. He ignores the sting. “Louis-”

“Caroline, no need to sugar coat. I know it's true.” He gently touches his now bearded cheek, feels the cut skin just beneath. _They got my throat too_. He's still facing the wall as the woman works.

“Shh... you'll be going home soon.”

“Are you lying?”

“What-”

“Are you _lying_ to me? I can't take the liars anymore. I've been around them too long.”

“Ed and I will try our best.” She works methodically. She disappears for a moment. “Here" She says. A bottle of water is placed in front of him. He tentatively takes it and drinks. “Dirt managed to wiggle its way in.”

“You saw where they're keeping me. Hard to avoid- AH!” He shouts. “That hurts!”

“I have to clean it. Now shush.”

He rests his head on a pillow Caroline brought over and attempts to relax. It's comfortable, it's better than a dirt floor. He closes his eyes.

“Why am I here?” He asks. “Where am I going?”

“Maybe in time-”

“God damnit.” He concludes.

“Ed told me not to. It's to protect you!”

“What if I don't care?”

“We do. We have to protect...we have to protect both of you.”

“Does this person know I'm here?”

“They do.”

“And? Do they care? Do they _fucking_ care about me!?” Tears are streaming down his cheeks. “Or am I here for fun?”

“They... they're not doing well either.” His back is being bandaged.

“Are they also being treated like utter shit?” He spits out.

“N-no... they're... Lou, _stop_.” He pauses at the nickname.

“Don't say that.”

“What? Stop?”

“Don't say LOU! Don't fucking call me that!” He buries his head in his hands hating the sound, hating the one syllable that once made him whole, gave his heart a reason to beat. Now it makes him hurt.

“Calm down.” She delicately touches his shoulder.

“I c-cant!”

“It will be over soon.”

“Yeah when I'm dead.”

That would be a blessing.

 

**Scene Six: Chapel, 13:30**

“We are here, my dear boy.”

He's looking at his father, wants to choke him with his bare hands, cry his eyes out, find Lou and run away to a lost island.

“I am very proud of you.” The King is proud of his lowly Prince? “You've become exactly what I hoped for.”

“I...tried.” _You forced me._ “I have to help you.”

“Yes, I am not sure how much longer…” His father looks away.

“That serious?” He mocks his concern. _How easy it is to... lie._

“I want you to know something.”

“Sure.”

“I loved your mother.” He begins. “You and your sister were all I had but she took you both away.”

“Why?” _I know...but pretend damnit!!_

“She never felt the same.” The man shrugs. Harry wants to pry but now? Before he's being forced into a marriage?

“I wonder why.”

“Anyway, no point in deciphering her actions. I'm sure she had her reasons.”

“Is she here?” He hasn't seen his mother in ages.

“No. I could never find her. After your eighteenth birthday she disappeared.” _Good._

“Oh... alright.” He says.

“You ready?”

“Yes.” He lies.

“Good.”

 

**Scene Seven: ????**

They drove for what felt like forever.

He's bandaged, probably resembles a mummy, probably looks more like a freak then he did before this whole debacle. They covered his head and bound his hands once Caroline was finished.

She kept reassuring him it'll be okay, that he'll be found and brought home. But he doesn't trust her. He'd rather wallow and pray for the worst.

“Bring him to the back.” He's pulled out of the vehicle and forced to walk the few feet to a…door? “In there.”

He's just moving. He doesn't know anything, doesn't _care_ to find out any longer, simply wants to be left alone. _What else could possibly happen_? The room is filled with hushed chatter, the sound echoing all around him, confusing him. Sounds similar to a concert hall or...some form of church or open space.

Music.

He hears an organ, hears the hymn, hears the patrons singing along to the melody. _Great, why would I be_ \- Something sharp is pressed against his freshly bandaged back.

“Don't move or make a _sound_.” Benjamin is right in his hear. “Do you hear me? If you make a peep, this knife is going straight through your spine...and _no one will_ care.” He dips his head. _He's right._ He ignores the tune, blocks out the life surrounding him.

Voices are coming over the loud speaker but he doesn't care he isn't listening. The knife is practically piercing his skin, warning him. What would he say? He doesn't know why he's here...wherever here is.

 

 **Scene Eight** : **14:00, Chapel**

He's looking at Camille.

She looks average. She's smiling. She seems calm.

This isn't right.

They're holding hands, facing one another, reciting the lines the priest instructed them to say into the microphone, confirming their love for one another in front of all of these people...these eye witnesses...he wants to choke.

A white streak in the crowd catches his eye. He looks away for a split second finds the blip in his vision, notices the black hood? The bound hands, the bandaged chest, the slump figure underneath. He nearly faulters, remembers what his stylist told him. _Holy fuck!_

His father did this.

Tested him.

Tested his loyalty.

Tested his will power.

 _Louis makes me weak_.

He tightens his grip on the woman he's holding as a life line.

 

**Scene Nine: ????**

The voice is familiar.

The deep, slow droll he cannot seem to cleanse his mind of. It's surrounding him, engulfing him, taking the very breath out of his lungs. It's painful to think of this now...he's already struggling to stand but why would his brain resurrect the one memory he has to forget? Has willed himself to forget!? _Why is Harry everywhere!?_ Why can he feel that voice resonating in his chest and heart?

He tries to maneuver away from Ben and the knife shoved into his back. He needs to breathe. He needs-

“I swear to be true to you until death do us part.” He tries to block out the voice, thinks of the lavender field...but NO! Harry was in that dream...he resurrects the beach...the sand...the man with the beanie-

 _Oh my God._ Thinks of work...No!!! His cats? _George loved him..._ Fuck!!

He can't escape it.

He practically doubles over, feels the grip on his abdomen tighten, feels the weapon pierce his skin.

“W-wait.” He sobs out.

“Shut up!” Ben whispers harshly into his ear.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife?” _The wedding._ He begins trembling as his heart pounds in his chest. It's all coming full circle.

“I…” he hears the hesitation, hears the pain, the _pity_. He cannot listen. He doesn't want to witness the _one person_ he thought hated him to do this...to.. _His arranged marriage. “..._ do.”

“Harry.” He chokes out. He's dragged backwards, away from the patrons, away from the priest instructing the newly weds to kiss, away from… “ _Harry_.” He says again with more vigor. _It was you._

“Shut up!” He's shaken from his stupor but he's still crying, can feel the anguish weighing down his soul. His life is slowly escaping him with every step. He can feel his body breaking down, the life as it's sucked away. He stumbles forward and smacks his head against the cold floor.


	6. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please proceed with caution.  
> There are a few derogatory words that may be hurtful to some.
> 
> Again, please reread the tags.  
> Thanks

**Scene One: Chapel, 15:30**

He is seeing red.

The composure he once possessed is slowly slipping through his fingers as he makes his way towards his imprudent son who he wishes to backhand across the cheek, the person he'd want to inflict pain onto.

But how would such an act be perceived by his people? His team? The fools he is forced to show respect to? Would they care to notice the King abused his own child into submission?

No. Of course not….or maybe?

They haven't a clue. They're oblivious insolent beings, blinded by their power, inept. Their confidence is glaring, evident to him and those who managed to work with them for as long as he. But Desmond understands. He's been around for quite a long time...Parliament is only interested with their own petty needs and will do what it takes to bring the King to his knees, force him to step down and relinquish his control.

This is why Harry mustn't fail and allow his personal life to obscure his decision making...think _love_ to be the cure-all...the fucking savior, the answer to any and all questions. The boy has no choice but to succeed and expose the flaws of Parliament and their rash decisions. It's the last resort to save the family name, bring meaning back to _royalty_ , spare him the humiliation!

But he cannot even begin to formulate a plan...not until he deals with his son. His petulant, poor excuse of a Prince who up until now has only given him grief. The boy is a waste, too wrapped up in his own whimsical land of unicorns and rainbows, blindsided by that _man_ he wanted to dispose of immediately. _I can't... he cannot die here._ That would leave an ugly stain on his image, give his audience something else to hate him for. So he must remain focused.

“Camille, my beautiful daughter-in-law, I must speak with your husband.” He found the two in the rectory holding hands, playing a very well-rehearsed act. _Don't worry. I am not as blind as you may think._

“Yes, my Lord.” She bows slightly, stares into his son's _shining_ eyes and quickly exits. Of course she's smitten. Harry is handsome...almost too pretty...like a _fairy._ And he fucking hates it. Harry was meant to be strong, menacing, a _real man_ , a threat. But no. His offspring turned out to be a soft, caring...kind individual. He isn't quite sure where he went wrong... _In this game, you must be tough. Show a hard exterior!_

His son turns to him then, the mask in place, the smile still lingering on his lips. _I can see right through you. You're miserable ._

“What happened?” He asks as even toned as he can muster. It seems lately his illness is guiding his temper. “You faltered on the two _most important_ words one must speak at their very own wedding!” He grips Harry's shoulder, watches the boy's facial expression change from one of pure happiness to sorrowful.

“I...I uh…” The Prince diverts his gaze, begins wringing his hands. “...saw something.”

“Ah yes. Our lovely prisoner.” He confirms. “The one who holds the power over your heart.” His son hides his face.

“You tested me. Tested my-”

“Yes and you failed miserably.”

“No!” The boy disagrees. “I am trying my best-”

“It's not _good enough_ !” He yells. “This does not _compare_ to the shit that will be forced upon you! This is _nothing_.”

“Louis is a _person_. Not an object to be tortured!!” He can sense his son's sadness, can witness the tears in those green eyes...those very eyes his mother also possessed. He wants to hurl. “I'm tied down. I cannot go anywhere now so please I beg of you. Let him go!”

“No.” _Why no? Harry is married. He's back home...why keep the little twink around?_ He concludes Louis could be used as a tool or a form of punishment without physically injuring his own son…so yes, he must remain. _Where has my mind gone?_

The illness.

Absolutely.

He always blames the illness.

He looks into his son's pained expression and cannot feel any pity towards him, cannot allow love to guide him. _I fell for that ploy._ _Not again._ Harry is too soft.

“You failed.” He spits.

“ _Failed!?_ ” His son repeats. “What-” The King turns towards one of the guards.

“Where is Benjamin?”

“East corridor.”

“Good.” He ignores his son and heads to the door.

“Wait!!” Harry catches his arm. “What are you-”

“I have this sudden urge to _hit_ something.” He shakes his son off and walks away.

“Dad!! _No!!”_ The guards take hold of the Prince. “Please!! DAD!!!” The cries are childish. _He has no idea._ “Don’t _hurt_ him!!” He can hear the choking, the sobbing. “Please! Hurt me instead!!” _Oh I'd love to, Harry. I'd relish in the feel of beating you senseless, having your blood on my hands._

He's making his way through the hallways, remaining in the shadows, avoiding the patrons and meddlesome news reporters. He hasn’t the time to give an impromptu interview...he has a punishment to deliver. So his presence must be kept quiet.

He is half way there when the tickle in the back of his throat halts him in his tracks. _Not now!!_ He places a hand on the wall and one on his chest. He closes his eyes, takes two deep breaths as the doctor instructed and allows the episode to pass. He cannot do this here...not as exposed as he is. If this does not pass, he'll be left crippled and struggling for air. _Never show weakness._ He's the fucking King, not some weakling. _I'm strong. I can overcome this_. He repeats. _I'm not my pathetic son._

After a moment, he continues on his way, adjusts his suit and handkerchief, fixes his hair, and reassures himself that he is in control.

He makes it to the East wing in no time and finds his destination. He opens the door and quickly seeks the boy out.

“Yes. There he is!” His voice is filled with mirth. The man is slouched against the couch, his gaunt, nearly skeletal frame wrapped in now bloodied gauze and bandages, his head is covered securely with black cloth as to not expose the King's identity. It's exactly how he wanted him.

He walks further in to get a better look as curiosity gets the best of him. He wishes to see the family crest now branded into the boy's skin but unfortunately the lash wounds are intriguing him. _I said ten but I guess they had their fun._

“Lift him.” He instructs with a single wave of his hand. Benjamin and Sandy, the shmuck who finally decided to arrive home, lift the poor soul up onto unsteady legs. The Prisoner is dead weight... practically _dead. Good_ . Desmond watches the man struggle against them, practically trip over his bare feet, topple over from the lack of strength. “So, Louis.” He begins. The man is visibly quaking. _I am just...unfeeling._ “You managed to seep into my son's existence, destroyed his clarity, filled his pathetic little mind with these ideas...these miniscule thoughts…” He approaches the man and takes hold of his boney shoulder. If he gripped tight enough...he could no doubt crack the man in two. “Selfishness, _Louis._ I am surrounded by narcissistic individuals...and now my son is stooping to their level...he never did before.” His fingers are digging into the dirt laden flesh. The man begins to cower. “He _never_ did!!!” He shouts. “He wanted to _help_ me! He was willing to put his shit aside and _help his ailing_ father. But no.” His nails broke skin…he’s gripping so hard. “Now? Now he has this need to _be in love_ . Believes his love for you is more important than _me_ !! Can you imagine!? He _loves you!?_ ” The boy is outwardly sobbing, shying away from the nails piercing his pale skin. “How can my son love you more than he loves me? His own flesh and blood!? Tell me!!”

He removes his hand and pushes the prisoner into the wall needing a release. The King allows one punch to land in the center of the boy's stomach, the next on his chest, the next on his masked face, followed by his crotch, his stomach...two...no three more!

He cannot stop.

He's moving all over, causing the hurt, making the man shout out, inciting his retribution. _I don't care!!!_ He wants blood on his hands, needs the satisfaction that he won, and beat his son into submission. Proved he is the one in control and not some measly poor excuse of a person.

The boy eventually collapses into a heap on the ground.

Desmond watches and is about to throw another blow when Benjamin gently pulls him away from the now lifeless body. _Passed out_. He looks down at his split, red stained knuckles, and bruised fingers. He finds the man slumped against the wall and floor, chest now covered in blood, body contorted in an awkward angle from where he fell.

“Sir. It's enough.” He wishes Harry was there. He wishes his ugly, fruity son was lying in that very spot...body mangled and bloodied, scorched... _I hate you, stupid faggot._

“Yes. Yes that will be all.” He fixes his hair and straightens his blazer. “Put him in solitary confinement. Make sure he never sees the light of day. Text my son from this man's cellphone ensuring him he made it home and is in good health.” _That should suffice._

“Right away, sir?” Benjamin questions. The King looks over at Sandy.

“Wait a week or so. Cannot look too obvious.” He takes a deep breath. “And hose the animal down. You can smell him from down the hall.”

He exits the room and quickly finds the bathroom to vomit feeling less satisfied, more pained, more like a monster...

_What have I become?_

He cannot help but wonder if he made a grave mistake.

**Scene Three: ????**

His ribcage is on fire.

His shoulders, his stomach...his entire body.

He awoke in an even darker and dingier room than before.  The air is thick, the moisture difficult to breathe in, the stench killing his nose and it's pitch black.

He can barely make out his toes wiggling in front of him or the puffs of dust escaping his mouth. He thought the bag was still covering his head but no there is just no light source.

He cannot control the shiver wracking his body or the swelling on his cheek. The attack was vicious, more painful than the lashes to his chest or the burning on his back. It was personal, a direct hit from the man who wants him here, a vengeance for...the person's son being in love with him.

 _What?_ His mind is jumbled.

He cannot fathom Harry being in love with him. That doesn't make sense. Harry was angry. Harry told him he was used for sex, used for fun. Harry admitted it was temporary. Harry _fucking_ said it all!!!

 _So why am I here!?_ _Why bring me here when Harry doesn't love me? Was his acting that believable?_

He begins to cry, covers his eye sockets with the heel of his hands, quivers at the unjustness, melds into the wall. It doesn't matter any longer. He is never leaving. He will never see the light of day or the blue sky. His wounds will most likely become infected. He'll probably die from dehydration.

_What will hurt me most?_

He gently shifts his legs, ignores the aches and pains, rests uncomfortably against the stone. His ripped jeans are soaking wet from being sprayed with water earlier. It destroyed the dressing around his wounds, made his situation just a little more uncomfortable, and there is nothing he can do to remedy the situation except…

Wait.

Wait for nothing.

Wait for death to take him.

**Scene Three: Palace, 11:45**

He's seated next to his father staring at the presentation.

He lost interest the moment he sat down. He doesn't particularly care about the party his _wife_ planned or the color of the suit he is forced to wear to the gala. It's a waste of time. He'd rather donate money to the fundraiser and call it a day. But his father loves making everything difficult so here they are…

It's been nearly two weeks since the wedding and he hasn't given up hope. Both he and Teddy meet up at night to discuss possible locations his father could be holding Louis...in the dungeon's...in the palace? He managed to get the cook to help him (she liked how he faked his skills in the kitchen with Camille to make her feel more confident and blah blah…) and eavesdrop in conversations amongst the guards or listen to the banter between his father and _anyone_ who may pose as a threat. He tried to speak with the hairdresser...stylist...whoever to see where she stands but she's hard to read. And Ed has Caroline, the on-site physician. But it's difficult...he hasn't found any leads since they moved him. So right now he can only think of his whereabouts... hopefully find out soon...get him home.

“Honey.” Camille interrupts his internal rant as she runs her hand over his thigh. “What do you think?” He looks her square in the eye, wills her to move that hand from his leg.

“It's lovely my sweet.” He practically vomits the words. “It should be a wonderful evening.”

“Yes! I hope to raise en-” He stops listening.

A person passes into his field of vision...a very familiar man...the person he once called a friend, the police officer he called his _partner. Now it makes sense._

“Be right back.” He interrupts and rises from his chair, rushes over to the suited gentleman Harry wants to punch in the jaw and practically pushes the man into the study before slamming the door closed. _I should have known._

“What the-” They make eye contact.

“ _You_.” He jabs his finger into the man's chest while simultaneously pushing him further into the room. “It was you!!” He repeats. “You told my father about Louis!! You told him I was in love with him!! You destroyed an innocent man's life!!”

“I was hired to do a job.” Sandy confesses. “Your father told me the task and I followed through!” Harry is shoved back. “You had a promise to uphold! You _had_ to come back!!”

“I had every intention-”

“No!! You weren't going to return. You were going to remain with Louis! Don't lie to yourself!!”

“That night at the bar I told him he was nothing but a game, something fun...a _good time_. He was going to leave me alone!!”

“We had to make sure.” Sandy spits. “We couldn't trust you.”

“I fucking loathe you. I should have let that perp put a bullet through your head.” He admits. “You deserve it!!”

“Yeah? And then what huh? Louis would have still been abducted! Your father has known for _four years._ He's been following boss-man since. He didn't have a fucking chance!” He stares into this person's lifeless eyes, searches their face.

“Four years!? What happened-”

“You showed interest!! I had to protect the throne! I told your father and he deployed his little group to watch him.”

“You...are despicable.” He shoves the man back. “What if I fucked around, huh? Would you watch all of _those_ people too!?”

“Louis was different. He was a constant...was around at work, was a threat!!”

“He wasn't!! You're being delusional believing this when you should have asked me!”

“And blow my cover?! You are dense.”

“An innocent man is being held against his will!!”

“A man you should have left alone, Harry.”

“That's _Prince_ Harry to you.” He shoves Sandy hard. “I hope you're satisfied with yourself. I hope you realize what you've done.” He stomps away.

Now it all makes sense...of course it was Sandy...trusty ol’ Sandy, good friend Sandy...work partner Sandy. Always following him, always keeping himself in Harry's business...prying. _God I was fucking stupid._ He let down his guard...and let the enemy walk right in.

He runs a hand down his face and reaches for his buzzing cell phone. He only kept it with him just in case Niall, Stan, or...Louis texted him. But holy shit... _Lou._ The name is there giving him hope...he opens the message and reads the string of texts.

[L]: I'm home. They let me go... I'm with my mother in New York. I can't head to CA yet...too soon.

[L]: I already told the guys at work. Told the boss. Informed Stanley.

[L]: I'm okay.

He re-reads the texts, breaks down each letter...every phrase. _Holy fuck he's home?_ His heart feels full yet empty. His brain cannot fully comprehend what transpired and how suddenly he was set free. Harry is married now, it's not like he can simply _leave. Maybe dad trusts me._

He walks back into the grand hall past his wife, and approaches his father. The King is in a deep conversation with the head of the military. _Fuck that. I need answers_.

“Sir, I must speak with you.” He demands. His father slowly turns around.

“Yes?”

“In private.” He concludes and quickly exits the hall into the main entryway. He takes a seat on a cushioned, red velvet bench unable to stand. _He's gone... Louis is gone_ . _Why am I sad? Is that why we couldn't find him?_ The door opens and quietly closes. “He's home?” He questions immediately.

“Son, you must-”

“Louis is home?” He lifts his head and eyes his father. “You let him go?” Why does he have such mixed emotions? Why is he saddened by this news?

“Yes.” Yet so relieved? “He was brought home a few days ago.”

“To New York? To his mother?” He continues. “He's actually _home?_ ”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” His father's responses are clipped, laced with impatience.

“Oh.”

“Is that all?” His father crosses his arms over his chest.

“Uh…” He twists his fingers together.

“Prince Harry. You must articulate your feelings.” His father scolds. “Your wish was granted. Now please be a husband to _your wife_?” His father turns around. “And fix your tie.” He ignores the man and stares blankly at the wall.

Louis is home.

He's home.

He's out of harm’s way.

He's safe.

He rests his head in his hands and mulls this information over, takes out his cellphone and reads the texts again. He wants to respond...wants to tell him... everything. _But no, I can't. I'd want that in person...maybe take a short trip and admit everything...but why? What would that do?_

He pockets his phone. The search is done.

“Harry, dear?” _Camille._

“Yes.”

“Are you ready? Our car is waiting.” He stands, takes her outstretched hand and walks with her to the door. “Is everything alright? You look a little pale.”

“My stomach hurts. I may have eaten something…”

.

.

.

.

He's sitting up in bed, cell phone in hand, mind filled to the brim with unwritten words, heart breaking. He has to write back to Louis. He has to tell him.

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I'll always love you._

_My life isn't the same without you._

But again, what will this do? It will only put Louis’ life in danger.

He texts Stan, confirmed Louis is with his mother and shuts the phone down for good...

**Sometime later…?**

**Scene Four: ????**

The water startles him awake.

He's drenched from head to toe, his caked on jeans now clinging to his legs, hair pressed against his forehead. He's sitting in the corner, holding himself, wrapping his arms securely around his mid-section pretending it's someone else, awaiting the chills... awaiting anything really.

It's the same day in and day out...it's quiet, it's dark, it's lonely. His injuries are now only a slight ache and serve no purpose but to make him look like a beast.

He's dreamt quite a bit...mainly of his escape, sometimes of his life before California, sometimes of his cats...a few of his mother. It depends really. Most days he's depressed, others he's accepted his fate...and occasionally he smacks his head into the stone wall to knock himself unconscious and pray for death. But he never can get it quite right…he secretly thinks he's afraid...too afraid of the unknown. He's successfully given himself cuts however nothing near life threatening... _unfortunately I am a whimp._

Louis huddle's further into the wall as a man approaches. They never come this close…this is... different.

Normally, they drench him with a bucket of ice cold water, bring the life back into his limbs, awaken him from his sleep. But he may also suspect it's to keep him relatively clean. Which...why would they care for a prisoner’s cleanliness? Unless they're being used...in the near future? He shutters at the thought.

“Hey.” He barely acknowledges them. His eyes are trained on the floor, too afraid to look into this person's face. “Louis.” _No. No...no_.

“Where is he?” He recognizes the voices. But no...it's false. It's his dreams blending into reality. “Holy shit...boss man.” _Okay now I am definitely dreaming._ “Wrap this around him!” A thick cloth is placed around his shoulders... _Am I still wet?_ “Louis.” A man is in his face startling him.

“Where is Caroline?” _Did they wet me? What's happening?_

“I don't know.” The man inspects him closer. “He has deep cuts on his forehead...how'd he get those?”

“Not now we have to go.” He's used to this. People visiting, inspecting his injuries, drenching him in water, forcing him to drink and eat...but why is this person picking him up?

“Come on, Louis. Use your legs.” What is he doing? He can't move!!

“Be gentle!”

“He can't move much at all.” He uses the wall to support himself, throws his arms out to push the man away. “No, I'm here to help...we are here to help you. It's okay.” He scrunches his eyes closed. “I will not hurt you.”

“Louis, it's okay.” A second man comes into view...the red hair...the kindness.

“Uh...ugh.” He cannot speak. His voice is…

“It's okay. You're okay.” The blanket is secured around his shoulders. “Alright, together let's move.”

He's guided forward, the arms around him are firm, he's...being led out

“Ugh...w...wh-”

“No, Louis. Don't speak. You need your energy.” _I have none._

“We have to go through the palace.”

“What!? How!”

“The Princess is hosting an event. Most of the staff will be occupied...it's the only way!”

“But we're putting Louis in danger!”

“They would never expect it.”

“There you guys are!” Louis hears the third voice. _Caroline_. “Yes you found Louis! I knew I could trust the cook. She knows everything.”

“I thought the stylist gave away his location?”

“Louise? Nah, she was too busy pretending to hate Har-...uh.”

“Let's get out of here! We'll talk later.”

**Scene Five: Grand Ballroom, 21:45**

He's done.

He wants to sneak away but Camille has him trapped. Her finger is making lazy circles on his lower back in an attempt to entice him. But it just doesn't work. Nothing does. He isn't interested and doesn't care. He'd rather be abstinent then touch her. _I could go the rest of my life without getting my dick touched...or can I?_

Since the cook has been listening to the staff, she found out she was screwing one of the guards to satisfy her needs. The lady thought he'd be devistated, but he has never been more relieved. He of course pretended to be upset, mocked heartache, confessed his undying love for her and yeah...he was convincing... _enough_ . _But the cook knows. She only laughed._ They made a truce to never inform the King.

He sidesteps his wife's incessant touches feeling dirty suddenly.

“Have to...uh...refill my drink!” He smirks, plants a chaste kiss on her lips, and scoots away as quickly as possible. His skin is crawling, his head aches, he's finished... _Fuck I need air…need to escape that sweet perfume_.

He maneuvers around the crowd, gives a wave here and there, keeps his smile on his face, finds the balcony door mere inches away... _fresh air!!! Please!!_

He darts outside and takes a deep cleansing breath. Pretending has proven to be far more difficult then he could imagine...even with Louis gone.

_He's gone._

_He's really gone._

He was hoping he could at least say goodbye, wish him luck, seek his forgiveness, something to relieve the strain on his heart. But he knows he isn't worth it. Whatever he receives he deserves. Louis will move on and seek his own happiness.

Without him.

And that hurts more than it should.

**Scene Six: ????**

Louis wants to stop.

He is exhausted...his body needs to sleep...he needs a nap…

“I...I…” His voice...where is his voice?

“I know but please keep it down!” Ed says in his ear. “Sandy, I'm losing him.”

“Keep your hold, we're almost there.”

“Boys! Coast is clear!!” Caroline is up ahead working as their makeshift look out. “Door is closed!” The two men pick up their pace, lift Louis up so his feet don't touch the ground. It's welcoming. “That's right! The door is right there!! Louise has the car.”

His heart is hammering in his chest, his mind reeling, his hopes skyrocketing. He is so happy...elated...to escape. It's too much...he feels light headed.

“Almost there...” Ed says. The door to the ballroom swings open forcing them to stop. “Quick!! Hide him!!” They gently place him on the ground, surround him, conceal him.

“Shit. Who is it?” Sandy asks. He begins to feel sick.

“Looks to be that guard the Princess fancies.” Caroline confirms.

“Wait, she's screwing that guy!?” Sandy looks surprised.

“Shhh!” Ed snaps. Louis remains silent on the ground, wraps his arms around himself again, forces his eyes to remain open, hides beneath the confines of the blanket.

“Okay he's gone! Let's go!!” Caroline confirms.

“Alright Lou, let's go.” Sandy gently picks him up. They are quietly making their way towards the door...it's so close. Louis can taste it...feel the fresh air...the freedom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He hears the gun click, practically topples over from the fear.

_No!!!_

**Scene Seven: Grand Ballroom, 22:15**

He looks out over the balcony.

Takes in the crispness of the air, watches the people below snap photos of the palace, admire its beauty and history. He wants to scream. It's anything but glamorous...it's a prison. _They have no idea…_

“Prince.” He looks over his shoulder at Camille. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” He winces. “Do you need anything?”

“I was wondering where you ran off to.” She approaches him, places her hand on his forearm. “You seem off. Are you falling ill?”

“Maybe. Stomach bug possibly.” He shrugs. “I needed fresh air.”

“Well, your father is requesting your presence.” He refrains from rolling his eyes and simply nods his head. He follows the woman back inside and notes the quiet that has since settled over the crowd. It's disconcerting...it's making his heart rate rise. “What's happening?” Camille holds onto him. He cranes his neck over the patrons.

“Wait!!” He hears scuffling, the struggling, the muted cries.

“Don't shoot!!” He shakes his wife off and blindly walks to the door having this urge to move towards the action. _Forever a cop I suppose_. He pushes his way through, ignores the grunts and groans from those he shoved harshly out of his path. “Stop! Be gentle!!”

“Son!!” He hears his father. “Harry!!”

He pushes the remaining body out of the way, finds Ed and Sandy in the hallway holding onto someone wrapped in a thick wool blanket, the guards surrounding them, a smaller dark skinned woman he can assume is Caroline, struggling against the man with the gun.

There's a large smack, a gasp, a muddled cry. His eyes widen in horror as the hint of familiarity hits him. He moves forward, allows his feet to carry him.

“Prince!! Stop!!” He doesn't care. He is transfixed on the lump on the ground.

“Get him up!”

“Leave him!” The woman turns around and her eyes find him. She lunges towards the ground covering the lump of cloth. His forehead is sweating, his suit confining, his heart slamming into his rib cage. _Is that…_ “Save him.” The woman whispers at him. The guards are encircling them, blocking his view but he doesn't care. He continues on, walks steadily towards them. “He needs you.” The lady continues. She has tears in her eyes. “Please.”

Guards grope at him to deter him from getting any closer, implore him to cease his movements, threaten him. But he uses his strength, pushes them away, ignores the shouts.

He approaches the group, leans over the body, gently extends his hand and grazes the matted hair. His vision is suddenly blurred, the reality that this is...this unresponsive being is-

He's on his knees then, takes hold of those biceps, lifts the man into his lap, cradles the body to his chest, ensures the man is covered to maintain their temperature. Harry is outwardly sobbing into the once soft fringe, searching for that familiar scent he's come to love. _It's not here...where is it!?_ _Why isn't it here!?_

“L-Louis!!!” He finally releases. “Look at me. Lou, open your eyes, please look at me!” Harry is cradling the man in his arms, holding him impossibly close to his chest, whispering in his ear, kissing his hair. “No...no...no...no!” He repeats. He sinks deeper into the body, tightens his hold. “Lou... _Lou_! This isn't happening!!”

“Harry!!” He doesn't lift his head. He ignores his father. “What are you-”

“F-fuck you.” He stands with Louis in his arms and walks away.

“Prince Harry stop!”

“I hate you.” He secures the man in his arms, ignores the dust covering his overpriced suit, allows himself to speak freely for the first time since he arrived. “You hurt him. You did this!!” He shouts in front of the crowd. “You orchestrated the abduction, kept him secluded...hurt him! I thought he went _home_ ! I gave up my search...believed him to be safe. But no. You lied.” He is nearly at the door. “I refuse to help a man who believes his life is more important than others...just because you're King...that doesn't give you the right to hurt an innocent man or _anyone_ for that matter!”

He looks at Ed, Sandy...and the woman, nods his head and simply walks through the door towards the awaiting vehicle. Louis is so cold, so still, so vacant, so broken, and he cannot help but think that he did this. His desire destroyed the man...

“Harry.” He is shaken from his thoughts. It's the blonde, the woman he thought he couldn't trust. She looks at Louis. “You found him.”

“I…he found me.” He admits. He looks down at the man, takes in the sickly pallor, the contorted facial features, and bearded cheeks.

“Get in. I'll take you home.” 

They're silent. Harry cannot look at the wounds just yet...he has to mentally prepare himself for it-

“I had to pretend.” The woman starts. “The less you knew the better. I didn't want to!” He cannot speak right now...he needs to...help Louis. “I know it doesn't help, but-”

“I can't do this...”

“Please Prince you have to believe me. I wanted to tell you but I have a child and she needs me.”

“Please.” He sobs. “Enough. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“But it does matter!”

“I can't _do this_ right now.” His voice sounds harsh. “I'm sorry. I need time.” He concludes.

He eyes Louis and allows himself to become entranced.

 **Scene Eight:** **_Their_ ** **Home, 23:15**

They're at the house.

 _The_ house he and Camille moved into after the wedding, the home that holds no special meaning to him, the home that fills him with dread...the home of the future Prince or Princess.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

He thanks the woman, carries Louis inside and immediately takes him to the bathroom. He's covered in a layer of dust and dirt, his hair is greasy, face littered with small cuts along his forehead and temple. _What the fuck?_

 _This isn't real_.

He gently props Louis up on the vanity, turns the water on, and watches the tub fill up. He can only cry, only allow his sorrow to consume him. His father is cruel...his father is the piece of shit... _how could he do this!?_

He shuts the faucet and takes a deep breath. He has to look. He has to move the blanket and see what lies beneath... it'll crush him most likely but what will hurt the most is knowing Louis endured this on his own.

“Ugh…” He turns around at the noise and practically runs to Louis. “W-what…” His eyes are scrunched closed as he blindly extends his arms out to protect himself. “No...what...what are you…” Harry runs a hand down his prickly cheek, remembers a time when this gesture gave him such life. _Now it hurts_. “You... you're…”

“Lou. Look at me.” The man pushes him away, covers his face, curls into a ball. “Please. It's me.” _He doesn't know who I am!!_

“You... you're…” Louis shakes his head as tears begin to run through the dirt on his cheeks.

“It's me! I'm here…I’m going to help you.” He gingerly extends his arm, moves the blanket aside and gasps. This was forced upon him for what? Why? What's the fucking point!?

The once smooth skin is now littered with deep red lacerations. They're rigid, long, tinged purple, and nearly covering his entire torso. It's gruesome, difficult to look at, impossible to comprehend the amount of pain this must have caused. He swipes his eyes and composes himself.

“Let me remove your jeans.” He chokes out. He undoes the button and pulls the zipper down. Louis continues to struggle but the man is so weak...barely coherent...so _lost._  

“N-no!!” Louis whips his head back and forth, pushes his hands away. “No...no no!! D-don’t…” He tugs the stiff denim off and takes in the man before him. _He's hurting... damaged...afraid._

He tilts Louis forward to find the other circular wound covering the man's back.

“Oh my god...” He sobs. It's an intricate design...he can't seem to make out the image but...how? It was burned on, scorched into Louis’ flesh, branded like a goddamn reminder of where he's been. _He's..._ He inspects closer, recognizes the design that he's seen adorned on flags, seat cushions, all over Camille's banquet. “Holy fuck.” _It's the family crest. My father made him his property._ _Like a fucking piece of furniture._

Louis struggles in his grasp, breathes deeply into the lapel of his suit as tears soak into the material. _Good, ruin it. I don't care this means nothing._

He cradles the man against him and carries him to the awaiting tub.

“O-okay, Lou.” He clears his throat to sound more in control. “Let's get you cleaned.” Harry lowers him down.  

“Ah!” The man splashes, attempts to push away, shouts in agony. “Please!” His eyes are cinched shut fighting Harry with the little energy he has.

“It's okay. I promise. You'll feel better.” He reassures. He gently pushes the man down, begins scrubbing off the dirt ignoring Louis’ cries, still attempting to hold back the tears he can't contain. “L-Louis let me help you.”

“You're...not real!” The man shouts. “I'm...I…you hate me.” Louis kicks his legs out, gets Harry's suit soaked, wets the floor, causes a huge mess. But he doesn't care. He isn't stopping.

“I am real. You're real. This is real.”

He methodically cleans Louis off, washes his hair, gently shaves the beard away revealing yet another cut on the man's chin and neck. _Oh my God. He's covered._

But Louis is still beautiful. He's still in love. He cannot _stop_ . _Vanity doesn't mean a thing._  Although, who knows how Louis will fair after this.

He empties out the brown water, runs the shower over Louis, rinses him off, scrubs every last bit of skin he can get his hands on.

“S-stop.” Louis turns on his side and curls his legs under him. “You're fake... you're...you hate me!!!” The man shouts into his hands.

“No I don't!” He cries. “I never did. Louis I-”

“Leave me alone!”

“I'm nearly finished. Please let me help you!”

“You're... you're…” Louis covers his head with his arms.

“I'm here, Louis. I swear it's me.”

“...m-married.” He sobs. Harry pauses and looks down at his left hand, finds the ring, has this desire to chop off his finger, take everything back.

“Louis, come on let's get you to bed.” He ignores the comment and reaches for a towel understanding there is nothing he can do to rectify the problem. He removes his coat, throws it aside and wraps the emaciated man in the soft cotton. “How does that feel?”

“You're married.” Louis repeats as he snuggles into the towel.

“Um...uh...okay.” He lifts Louis up, carries him bridal style into the spare room. “You can sleep in here.” _I want you with me._

“M-my bed...I want my bed.”

“Soon, Lou.” He sniffles. He lays the man down removes the towel and covers him in the crisp sheets and down comforter. “There. How does that feel?”

“F-foreign.” Louis closes his eyes and passes out instantly.

_Holy fuck._

Harry breaks down, feels his mind finally catch up with him, consume him...pain him. _Why?_ He sobs into his hands. He falls to his knees, takes hold of Louis’ delicate hand, kisses the knuckles, savors the softness.

“Louis. I love you.”

But he's certain Louis couldn't hear him.


	7. Tragic Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's completed!!
> 
> This took me longer than expected. I lost the last chapter twice and had to start over and at one point I was like screw it I can't be bothered.  
> But I did it and made it the way I felt it should have ended. I hope you enjoyed this edited version and will continue to read my work.  
> I appreciate it.
> 
> Thank you

He awakes with a start.

Where is he?

Is he on the floor?

Did they throw water on him?

Is he cold?

He cannot open his eyes, he cannot witness what's just beyond the lids. He's petrified of what he'll find...he...cannot lay witness to his future...or what his life will become. But will he be okay? If he is back on that cold floor covered in a layer of soot and dirt-

He cowers into his hands. He cannot be there...it's not possible! He was dragged out of the cell he was brought to...he was brought to a bright room...he was...was there a guard with a gun? Did he get shot? Did one of his saviors get injured? Who carried him? Where is he?!

Tears are spilling over, running down his cheeks and onto the pillow-

It's soft. His back is comfortable. He's...not on the floor, he is warm...dry. _Where am I?_

There's a light tap on his exposed shoulder, a small fragment of a touch that both scares him and brings him life. _Benjamin?!_ He gasps and shies away.

“N-no!” He whips his head back and forth, extends his arms, pushes the person away. “Please! No... please!!” His eyes are cinched closed, his mind jumbled. He's hurting...he's…

“It's me, Lou! It's me.” He breathes heavy, feels his chest expanding with each intake of air. “It's okay...open your eyes.”

“You're not real. This isn't real!” _I have to be on the floor...I have to be...I know it. If I open my eyes….I’ll find myself in darkness...alone._

“Lou! I am! Please calm down. I swear it's me.” Those fingers are strong. Those fingers... are wrapping around his bicep...his left bicep. He can't take it...it hurts!! His back hurts, his body aches, his heart is breaking.

“Don't do that!!” He shrieks in agony.

“You're away from harm. No one will hurt you! Lou please.”

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head no and burries his face in the pillow... _A pillow. It's a pillow._

He hears a gasp followed by a touch of a finger on his now bare back. _Am I naked?_ They're tracing the burn, following the lines, reminding him...how ugly he's become. He knows it's probably disgusting...he has inkling, sensed it when the King's reaction was of utter satisfaction.

“Why…” That digit is still going, giving him chills, making him squirm, making him think of another time when such a touch felt like heaven. “God why?” The person sobs out. It was unexpected, the sob. He didn't think they'd react this way. “...-my fault.” He didn't catch that. What's this person doing? “... -selfish.” Why is he losing touch? “...-mistake.” He's falling. “-hurt you.” He hugs the pillow even closer, curls himself into a ball. “...your skin.” He needs a release. “...painful. You were alone.” He feels it erupting in the pit of his stomach. “...I lied. You were-”

“SHUT UP!!!” He screams. “Just shut the fuck up! Don't touch me! Leave me alone!! Don't speak to me!!” The pillow is drenched with his tears, his body is shaking. He shouts into his arms, shakes off the hand that has up until this point covered most of the burn on his back. He's reached rock bottom. He's finished... “Fuck _you_.” He spits.

“Please listen!”

“No!” Louis turns around abruptly, opens his eyes, is about to strike when he sees it...sees them...sees him and everything comes to light. Those green irises, the lips, the jawline, nose, neck, hair...the handsome face, no the _breathtakingly_ handsome face that has haunted his dreams for months. He drops his arm and stares into this person's eyes.

The world stops, time freezes, his heart ceases to beat.

It's him.

It's them.

Only them.

And he cannot make sense of the emotions choking him. He wants to lash out. He wants to hit this man in the face, scratch at their eyes, pull at the perfect curls sitting atop their head, punch that angular jaw...mark them, make them bleed.

But…

_I want to kiss you, touch you tenderly, share my heart with you, wake up next to you, make love with you…be with you... forever._

He can't help it. He cries. He weeps. He releases choked sobs as the man wraps his impossibly long arms around him and tugs him close. The embrace is filled with warmth, care, kindness, affection. It's what he's craved...it's what he desires. He cannot lose this.

He tucks his face in the crook of the person's neck and shoulder, grips onto the collar of the white tailored button down shirt. He accidentally breaths through his nose, catches that scent, is consumed with the smells he has since associated with home. And it hurts.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know it means nothing to you. I _know_ it cannot make up for any of this but know that I am breaking too. In fact, I may be broken already.”

“H-Harry.” He can barely speak past his tears. “I...I-”

“Lou, no. This was my fault. Don't you see? You're here because of me. I was stupid and selfish and just...I wasn't using my head.” He leans into the touches, grips the shirt even tighter, allows himself to relax into the the strong body supporting him. “I wish my father took it out on me, taught me the lesson!” He feels the anger seeping through. “Goddamn it! Why did he do this!?” He's smooshed against Harry's chest and he doesn't mind in the least. “Why did he think this was the best way? To hurt you? To hurt an innocent person who was just…”

“A mistake?” He concludes. _It's starting to roll off my tongue easier._

“Never. God, _never_. Lou, don't you see? Don't you understand why you're really here?”

“Because your father picked the wrong person?”

“Incorrect.” Harry takes hold of his cheeks, stares deep into his eyes, licks at his lips. “No. No he is never wrong. He hit this square on the head.”

“What do you mean?” He whispers.

“You. You're...so special.” He's twisted awkwardly in the man's lap, his legs are dangling off the bed, his arms are secured around Harry's neck…he wants to be here. He does. “My father...see when he wants something, he'll do what it takes to achieve his goal. It's...why he is so successful, why he's an effective...leader. He wanted me home...therefore he dug deep, found what will truly drive me crazy if _anything_ were to happen to them.”

“Drive you crazy?” He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “I think he messed up-”

“No! He didn't... Lou he took you because _I chose_ you. I made the stupid mistake by showing interest, becoming infatuated with you.”

“Wait...wait but you said-” He attempts.

“It was a _lie_. You were supposed to hate me!” A thumb is rubbing his smooth cheek inciting these feelings Louis has not felt in so long. “I thought I won. I thought it worked! But then you were gone and I failed. My father took you and hid you and tortured you and...I cant. It's all too much...too hurtful...I should have these wounds, I should have the family crest branded into my skin. Not you. This was never meant to involve you-”

“Brand?” He asks in horror. “What do you mean by _brand?!_ ”

“The burn on your back, Lou. It's my families crest...my father marked you.”

“Like I'm fucking cattle!?” He lowers his head as his body is wracked with sob after sob. He cannot control it or stop it. He will never escape any of this, never be truly free. “I'll always be property. Someone will _always_ own me!”

“Stop! Don't say shit like that-”

“I have to see.” He fights his way off of Harry's lap, struggles against the hold on his cheeks. “I need to see-”

Their lips interlock suddenly.

It was unexpected.

Louis was not expecting this.

He was certain Harry did not care for him...he convinced himself. However, now? He isn't so sure.

He submits easily, falls into the touches, allows this man to ravish him and kiss him as if their lives depended on it, as if this is their last intimate moment together...

He's pushed backwards towards the pillows and he simply complies. It's not like he _doesn't_ want this, of course he wants it. He wants it from Harry, his body confirmed that so it's not a question.

He ruts his hips up, runs his fingers through the soft, short brown hair, makes his way south, runs his hands down the man's long, muscular back. He can't keep his hands to himself. He _has_ to touch, has to minimize the distance between their bodies, strip the barriers separating them.

They're moving against each other, kissing with the passion Louis has always longed for, and it's bliss. This is what he needs...a release.

He moans into Harry's mouth, bites at his lips, presses their bodies together. _Close. Come closer to me._ He thinks vehemently, needing the reassurance.

Harry moves to his neck, kisses from his earlobe to his Adam's apple and down to his collar bone and _fuck_ he can't contain it. He throws his head back into the pillows, relaxes his mind, feels a slight tug from the lips grazing his oversensitized skin, feels the wetness of the tongue.

“F-fuck...fuck.” He manages. His legs drop open, his arms rest above his head, he's completely relaxed. He could cum right here.

“Louis.” Hands cup his cheeks. “Open your eyes.”

“Yeah?” He lazily looks up into those bright green irises and he's home. _This is what home feels like._

“There's something you need to know.” Their lips touch once again. “Something I should have admitted awhile ago.” _Another kiss._

“What?” He thinks the absolute worst. _Mistake._

“It's hard to admit.” _I was a fuck toy._ But he remains frozen. _I can pretend for now._ “I hope you understand…” _Fuck. But I'm special? Maybe a different kind of special…_ “You're always on my mind.” _About how I tried too hard for your attention?_ “Your eyes.” _They're penetrating._ “Your face.” _Is ugly._ “Your soul.” _Crushed. Broken._ “Your very being.” _It's worn._ “I love everything about you.” _Yeah... he's_ -

“...what?” He stares back. “You what?”

“Louis, I love everything about you.”

“Why?” He chokes on that single syllable.

“Because you're perfect.”

“No. I'm not. I'm no where near that.”

“You're everything I've ever wanted.” Harry is running his thumb along his bottom lip.

“...b-but...but wait-”

“You're all I'll ever need.” He's watching those eyes, looking into their depths, seeking out the lies. “You are so beautiful.”

“But I'm none of that!” He denies. He knows he's dirty, tainted, now covered in permanent markings, _ugly_. He's so ugly. “I'm...I...no!”

“Yes!! Yes, Lou. Yes. I love you.” His mouth drops open. “I love you so much.”

“How…?” He's dumbfounded. He removes the hands from his cheeks and looks away.

“I'm too late. I know it's not going to change anything-”

“Then why do this? Why say these things?” He swipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “Why!” He grips his hair and tugs. “Why admit your love for me when it's not going to go anywhere!?”

“You have a right to know that's why! You have every goddamn right to understand why my father brought you here against your will, why he did what he did. He wanted me home and the only way he would ensure that was through _you_.” He moves away from the man, puts distance between them. He needs to think clearly. “I had to get it off my chest.”

“God...save it.”

“Save what!? Why are you angry?” Rather than respond, he stands up. “Where are you going!?” On unstable legs, he makes his way over to the bathroom. _My scar. My injuries...I have to look at them._ “Lou. Wait!” He hears the voice but he doesn't care. “Lou!!” He's almost at the mirror, he can see the shadow across the glass. “No!”

He stands in front of the mirror before Harry can stop him. He stares at the reflection, takes in the frail body, the sickly pallor, the protruding rib cage, the red scars littering his chest and stomach.

“Uh...oh my God...oh...shit.” He runs a finger across his chest in horror. It's everywhere... permanent...a constant reminder. “My body...my skin. Holy shit...what the fuck!!” He shrieks. He catches the counter, grips onto the edge to hold himself up.

“ _Lou!!”_ Harry runs to him and wraps his arms around his torso. “Lou...it's okay.” He feels the hug from behind, the strong arms surrounding him. “Lou please.” His heart is breaking, his mind shattering from the sight before him.

“This... this will...oh my God.” He holds his head in his hands. “Whose going to want me now?” He whispers.

“You're beautiful.”

“No! I'm not!! The moment someone sees this... they'll ask questions. They'll want _to know._ And...and I won't know what to say!! What do I say!?”

“Lou-”

“No one will believe me!! I'll be alone forever.” He sobs. “I hate myself. I'm disgusting. I'm dirty. I'm _tainted_.”

“But you're not!! You're so much MORE than that! You are sunshine, you're perfect, you-”

“It doesn't _matter_ what you think! You're _married!!”_ He struggles free from the grip. He can't look at Harry. It's done. What they _had_ is finished. _If it was anything at all_. He concludes solemnly.

“I know...I didn't ask for this.”

“But it's yours now...whatever _this_ is.” He grips the counter again and takes in gulps of air. “And I don't want to know. I don't want to know!!”

“Louis. Stop. Just _stop!_ I know I fucked up I am owning this right now but stop rubbing salt in the wound. I admitted my feelings for you. I told you it wasn't a mistake. I had to protect you! I had to try! But I lost... my father was too quick. I couldn't succeed-”

“Protect!? _Protect_ !? From what!? A broken heart? Because then _you_ failed at that.” He jabs a finger into Harry's chest.

“My father couldn't find out about us...you... more so you. And he did because Sandy opened his mouth-”

“Sandy?! What does he have to do with this!?” _I saw him...I saw Sandy._

“He works for my father. He was forced to follow me...and when you came into the picture, that's it. He told him you were a threat.”

“A threat for simply breathing!?” He rubs his eyes. “I didn't stand a chance!”

“Look, I thought I kept my feelings to myself but I was wrong and I'm sorry-”

“Sorry is _not_ going to change this!!” He points to himself. “And now just because you love me, I'm supposed to forget it? How will I sleep at night? How will I move on, huh!?” _I've wasted so much time._ “First Stanley, then you, now this? Where is my happy ending?” He eyes himself in the mirror, notes the red line on his chin, spots the corner of the burn mark on his back. _My back_. He takes in more air and slowly turns around. And it's worse. It's raised...it's nearly covering his back, it's… “No...no...no!!” He doubles over onto his knees, cries into his hands, blocks out the world, shuts himself into complete darkness. He's covered. Front and back. All over. Inside. Outside.

“Lou!”

“Don't... _fucking_...touch me!!” He shouts. “Just don't.”

“Let me help you. Please...I can't see you like this.”

“Go tend to your wife. I'm sure she's looking for you.”  He spits.

“I don't care about her!! I only said I do to save you!”

“What if I don't _want_ to be saved?” He concludes. “What if I want to die? Especially now?” He chokes.

“ _No_!!” Harry shouts. It makes him pause.

“A married man loves me. A man I _never_ had a chance with.”

“Stop it.” The man grips his shoulders and turns him around. His face is drenched in tears and sweat, hair most likely plastered to his forehead, skin still pasty white. “You'll find happiness. You'll be okay. You have a house, a job, two cats. You have a _life_! A normal life! And you can do whatever it is you want! Take advantage of that freedom, Louis. Most people are not as lucky as you.”

“B-but...but I won't have you.” He confesses. He looks at Harry, witnesses that once stoic face fall, practically crumble into a look of utter sadness. It's the most surreal moment.

“You'll...always have me and my heart.” The man whispers. “I'll be yours forever.”

“I won't wake up next to you.” He sobs. “I'll wake up alone, I'll fall asleep by myself. It won't be the same. And every time you walk out in public hand in hand with your wife, I may die a little inside because... because I'll be fantasizing that it's me.” He swipes at his cheeks, feels the fingers gripping his shoulders tighten. “And...and when you kiss her goodnight-”

“I'll wish it were you. I'll pretend it's you.”  

“And when you dream at night-”

“I'll be dreaming of you.”

“Is that where we can meet?” He touches Harry's cheek.

“Yes. Please.”

“Can you hold me?”

“You never have to ask.” He falls into the embrace, cries a little harder, feels the pain in his chest the longer they hold one another. He wonders what these feelings are...why he feels simultaneously content and empty. Harry kisses his closed eyes, then cheek, then the tip of his nose, then lips. It's so beautiful. He can't let go.

“Who are you?”

“I'll bring you back to bed.” He's picked up off the floor he's become accustomed to.

“You're going to tell me right?” He asks. “You'll be honest?”

“Yes, Lou. You deserve that much.”

“Okay.” He is gently placed on the mattress.

“But can you tell me one thing?” Harry takes his hands. “Before I confess, can you tell me the _one_ thing I've been waiting to hear?

“Tell you what?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Do you love me?”

**Scene One: Louis’ House, 01:30AM**

It's pitch black when he enters.

Stan is right behind him carrying his bag. It's been...nearly two months and it still smells the same...he's missed it.

“George? Luke?” He whispers. “Where are they? They always meet me.” He pouts. “They're always here.”

“Maybe they're asleep?” His ex asks.

“I don't know. Is Niall here?”

“The last I heard from him he went home.”

“Oh okay. I'll have to thank him for watching the house.” He walks further in, runs a hand through his hair, takes a deep breath. “Boys?” He calls out into the darkness. “You hungry?” He heads to the cabinet and takes out the bag of dry food to coax them. “Booooys?” He says again. “Come on!” He turns on the light and looks fervently for the two felines. “Stanley. Help me!” He rushes past his ex into the living room. “They're not here!! Text Niall!!” He runs past Stan again feeling his anxiety peak. “Please!! They're not-...” He stops dead in his tracks and finds both cats on his bed.

“Okay! Maybe Niall took them home.” He hears the voice but he ignores it. The boys are fine...they're snuggled against his sweatshirt.

“Hey.” He approaches the mattress. “I've missed you.” Luke lifts his head first, eyes him wearily then practically darts up and into his arms. “I thought you forgot me.” He pets the soft fur, sinks his nose into the cats neck. “I love you.”

_“Do you love me?”_

“George!!” The older feline decides to greet him. “They're in here!” He shouts. He cannot bare to leave them a moment longer. “I'm so sorry. I was... I thought of you all the time. I missed you.” He tears up. “Let's live a happy life, okay? No more tears...well sad tears. These are happy tears.” He continues to pet both cats.

“Oh good you found the animals.”

“I did. Sorry I just...never mind.”

_“Please don't forget me.”_

Stan drops the bag next to his feet.

“Are you okay here? I can stay over.” _And what? Take your payment?_

“No. No I'm okay.”

“Call me. The second you need anything.” His ex puts his hand on his lower back. He wants to shy away, remove the hand that's caused him endless amounts of pain and humiliation.

“Yes. I will.” He looks at the man. “Thanks for everything by the way.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“I know I've caused you a lot of grief lately-”

“Lewis. Don't.” His ex turns away. “Do not blame yourself for anything.”

“I’m not. I know I did nothing to you.” He confirms because fuck isn't that the truth? “I meant financially with the house and the plane ticket. Which I'll pay you back for.”

“Well, no you're not paying me back for anything. And there is something about the house you do not know....”

“Oh fuck. Is it haunted?”

_“I'm the Prince of England.”_

“I didn't buy the house. Harry did.” Stan confesses. His mouth drops open.

“What?”

“He purchased the house in full when he found out I put it on the market. I know it was wrong of me and I admit to being a selfish prick.”

“...Yes you are but that's besides the point. Harry technically owns this house.”

“No, you do. He transferred ownership. In fact, he also gave the condo to you as well.”

“He...what!?”

_“When you leave…”_

“Yeah you are now the owner of that condo complex by the beach. I'm quite jealous actually. That's an expensive area.”

“Holy shit.”

_“You're all I will think about.”_

He rests his head in his hands and tries not to freak.

“I know. You have some paperwork to sign off on. But we can head over to the condo in a few days. I believe all of Harry's possessions are in there still. I'm pretty sure he left it.” _Oh my God._

“Sure. I have to report to work too.”

“We told the Lieutenant.”

“Told her _what_?”

_“I'll miss your eyes.”_

“That you're home. But she understands and said to take it easy. ”

“She doesn't know any details?”

“Lewis, no...unless you want her to.” His ex is frozen in place. “Are you sure you don't want me here? I don't mind-”

“No. I need to be alone... honestly I really just have to sort this shit out.”

“Call me. Text me. I don't care. The second you need something...I'll be right over.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

They awkwardly hug and soon he's by himself... the quiet is deafening.

.

.

.

.

He's facing the ceiling. He can't sleep. He can't stop thinking. He's stuck.

 _“I was forced to get married...produce an heir. Keep the family name alive._ ”

Their conversation is on repeat like a broken record. Even when he is on the cusp of sleep, he is sucked back in. They talked, Harry confessed, Harry begged, Harry _opened up_ , and it was just hurtful. He simply listened, soaked it in, kept his mouth shut as his heart broke in his chest.

And he is still unsure how he feels.

Harry admitted his love countless times, kissed him, held him close...and Louis just couldn't say it. His voice was failing him, his feelings still jumbled, mind fuzzy from the recent events. _Didn't I want him? Wasn't that all I wanted to hear!? So what the fuck is wrong with me!?_

He hugs a pillow close and takes deep breaths.

How can he move on now? And he owns the condo?! What the fuck…-

“The _condo_ .” He jumps off the bed and runs to the closet. “Boys, I'll be right back. I have to...make sense of these feelings and the only way to know…I have to be _near_ him.”

**Scene Two: Harry's Condo, 04:30AM**

He unlocks the front door and is greeted with the staircase.

He remembers the day they kissed, the feeling of those lips on him, the desperation to be near one another. It was beautiful and mind numbing, heartfelt, and full of lust. He never felt more alive...and he'd kill to experience that again.

He pushes the moment aside and walks up the steps. He's immediately hit with that familiar scent.

It's strong, it's much more potent, concentrated... penetrating to his senses and it makes his limbs weak. It sinks into his skin, consumes his nostrils, engulfs him. He feels...he just... _like home._ The reality strikes him. _This is where I am meant to be._

He's at the landing looking into the space and it's the same.

The couch, the walls, the television.

All of it.

He can still imagine Harry walking in from the bedroom with his hair in a bun and smirk plastered on his face. He almost can hear him...almost feel the air of warmth surround him. _I wish._

He walks to the bedroom and it's a mess. It's like Harry picked up and left his life behind to start anew. The bed is unmade, floor littered with clothes, toiletries scattered about. _Harry is just going to walk out of the bathroom, I know it._

More hurt.

He sits on the mattress, touches the pillow those brown curly locks were splayed across when the man was completely wasted. He remembers the gold boots, the cute way Harry spoke to him, the _almost_ kiss, And _how I was ready to reciprocate_ , the way they spoke freely. He swipes at his eyes. It was a life time ago.

He stares at the sheets, pillows, comforter. He lied here too. They were together...on this very mattress... innocently, sleeping, dreaming...it was heaven.

He looks around the room having this sudden need to clean up. But if he does... _it will be real...Harry's gone._ So he figures he'll keep it messy for now, pretend the man is still here and just away on vacation.

He stands and heads to the closet ready to close the door when he gets another pang in his gut.

The shirts, multicolored boots, various worn sneakers,folded jeans, the police uniform, guitar case...sheet music...the ghost of a man he'll surely miss. This is Harry in a nutshell.

He steps into the closet and runs a finger along the silk and cotton hanging neatly on their hangers and wonders when Harry would wear these. _His gigs? To find men? To just look sexy? Yeah maybe_ . He pulls one free. It's a Britney Spears t-shirt. _Really?_ He laughs. _Can't pick up a guy in this_ . _Although, he'd look adorable in it for sure._

He places the shirt back on the hanger and continues to look at the others. He lands on a silky red button down. It's absolutely ridiculous with it's ribbons and sash but it's so incredibly Officer Styles he cannot help but smile. He sniffs the shirt and... nothing. It's scentless. _Maybe he hadn't a reason to wear it._ Or was waiting on a special occasion.

He continues eyeing the shirts when he finds a striped number. It's relatively simple (when compared to the other ones), cream colored with red vertical stripes. He pulls it free from the hanger and puts his nose to the collar.

It's like Harry wore this shirt and put it back without washing it. It's him. It's all him and Louis is sucked right in.

He slowly sinks down to the ground, sits amongst the assortment of shoes, holds the shirt close to his heart, thinks of those beautiful eyes, and soft voice telling him he's safe. _Telling me he loves me... asking me how I feel... repeatedly._

He's aching...his body is incomplete.

He looks down at his hands buried in the material, sees his fingers turn red from the grip.

“Why Harry?” He asks more to himself. “Why did you have to be a fucking Prince? I mean really...if anything I'd consider you the Princess.” He sniffles. “It's just... you were supposed to be _it_ , you know? I think...ugh I don't know. I don't know what this is.” He rests his head against the wall.

Harry simply said it.

When Louis didn't respond to the question, he continued on. He started from the beginning...how is father found him when he was fifteen, made the offer, told him the terms...Louis listened, didn't ask questions, forced himself to not vocalize his opinion. In the end, Harry chose and...this is his fate.

Now, Louis is left to think of what might have become, fantasize their future together, dream about kissing and making love, being a couple. Living happily.

_Is it too much to ask? To be a couple? To hold your hand? Feel your warmth and strength?_

He's eyeing the shirt, sees the first droplet hit the material and soak right in. He wasn't expecting it honestly. He thought he went numb but no. His feelings are there. They're unfortunately choking him and robbing him of his clarity. He can only think of Harry. He can only pretend now. _How pathetic_.

_“Do you love me? I need to know.”_

_“It doesn't matter how I feel.”_

_“It matters to me! I can't do this alone!”_

_“I'll be the one whose alone, Prince not you!”_

_“I may be married, Lou, but it's empty. There's nothing about our relationship that I crave. It's a shell!! It's a front!”_

_“You will still have someone to lean on!! To hold...to touch!”_

_“Do you love me!?”_

He turned away.

That's all he could do. Turn his cheek and keep his mouth closed. _It doesn't matter what I feel._ _My feelings will only hurt more. If I admit them, it will bring nothing but pain._

He remains in the closet all morning and into the early afternoon. He's stiff, parched, and probably dying of hunger but he doesn't care.

He must surround himself in these smells and the comfort of someone who meant the world to him...someone who is now so far away, out of reach, and out of his sight. His life will never be the same.

 _It was just getting good too_.

He knew it deep in his soul. He knew they would last. It was meant to be lifelong.

And that's what makes this entire situation worse.

_“Louis, I love you. You're my soulmate, you were written in my stars, brought to me for a reason...and I know it's fucked up but we were meant to be together!! It was our fate...Not this shit. Not my royal lineage. This means nothing. This suit, this room, the money... it's shit. You're all I care about. I will make my life about you...be devoted to you, love you unconditionally, prove you're all I need in life. And I don't give a shit that I'm married! The second my father closes his eyes, I am coming for you. I am making you mine.”_

He startles awake from his nap.

_Harry._

 

_I love you._


End file.
